


Three Gods and A New Apartment

by BFire92



Series: Three Gods and a Wine Collection [1]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Norse Religion & Lore, Background Character Death, Family, Fluff, Mentions of Sex, Multi, Past Sexual Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 18:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 104,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19067917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BFire92/pseuds/BFire92
Summary: “Welcome to the crib!” Apollo threw his arms out as he lead his brothers into their new living room. Their not so glorious or godly living room. “It is… small,” Dionysus commented. He didn’t feel the need to hide his scepticism. “It is authentic,” Apollo explained. “If we are going to pretend to be mortals, we need to live like mortals. We couldn’t very well get a penthouse apartment, now could we?” “Why not?” Hermes asked as he closed the door to the apartment behind them. “I have a penthouse in Chicago. It is nice.”





	1. Welcome to the crib

**Author's Note:**

> A series of drabbles just for fun about the brotherhood between Apollo, Dionysus and Hermes, based on weird headcanons on the darker places of the internet.

“Welcome to the crib!” Apollo threw his arms out as he lead his brothers into their new living room.  
Their not so glorious or godly living room.  
“It is… small,” Dionysus commented. He didn’t feel the need to hide his scepticism. Sure, he liked mortals just as much as the next god, probably more in fact. But Apollo’s newest amazing idea did not sound very amazing to him. Sometimes he wondered if turning Apollo mortal twice had somehow messed up his brain. Or perhaps he suffered from a constant sunstroke.  
“It is authentic,” Apollo explained. “If we are going to pretend to be mortals, we need to live like mortals. We couldn’t very well get a penthouse apartment, now could we?”  
“Why not?” Hermes asked as he closed the door to the apartment behind them. “I have a penthouse in Chicago. It is nice.”  
Apollo just rolled his eyes and threw himself on a battered leather couch. It made a squeaking sound against his own bright red leather jacket, but Apollo ignored it.  
“Little brother, listen. Say we got some mortal comrades. If we brought them to our apartment, and it was a freaking penthouse, how would we be certain that they were there to be our friends, and not to leech.”  
Hermes just sighed and dropped his duffle bag. It fell to the floor with a loud thunk, much heavier than Dionysus had expected. The sound of metal against metal was equally disturbing.  
And was that a balaclava poking out of the side pocket?  
He decided not to comment, but chose to completely ignore Hermes as he walked through a doorway and into a kitchen, where by the sounds of it, he started opening and closing all drawers and cabinets.  
“Anyway,” Dionysus sighed. “What I am saying is that this is not your common standard, Apollo.”  
“Are you calling me high maintenance?”  
“Yes. And flashy.”  
“Do not hate on me just because I am fabulous.”  
“I am not hating on you.”  
“You are stressed.”  
“I am not stressed.”  
“You are sprouting new grapes in your hair.”  
Dionysus felt his cheeks flush, and he crossed his arms to prevent himself from picking at the growing heaps of ripening grapes growing in his dark hair. He would have to make sure the mist hid them while he was outside amongst the mortals.  
“Also, Dio, I’ve had your aesthetics in mind,” Apollo said sweetly. He put his hand to his mouth and called towards the kitchen. “Hermy, open the door in the corner. The one that looks like a broom closet.”  
His curiosity almost took the best of him there and then, but he forced himself to stand completely still as he heard Hermes search the kitchen, muttering to himself.  
“I knew there was something odd in here, I just knew, I knew there was something of val- oh, nice! Is that an Estate Argyros? I could sell that.”  
“Don’t you dare,” Dionysus found himself yelling, and before he could stop himself, he had run into the kitchen.  
Hermes was standing in the doorway of a small walk-in closet in the kitchen, admiring not clothes, but the rows of bottled wine which filled the tiny room.  
Dionysus felt his jaw drop. Sure, it wasn’t anything near as big as his usual stock, but…  
“You got me wine?” he whispered, in awe. He could hear Apollo laugh from the couch.  
“Of course, bro. I mean, it’s not like it was difficult. I am not the god of wine, but I do have good connections. I’ve helped out a lot of people with their career choices. Also, we are gods. We can just make money.” He said the last part with extra emphasis, but Hermes didn’t offer a comment. Instead he picked a bottle from one of the shelves.  
“So… Are we going to have a house-warming party? Drink something expensive and get drunk? We could invite the muses, they know how to get down.”  
Dionysus took the bottle away from him and put it back on its place. He made a mental note to A - make sure the most expensive bottles were in the back, hidden away from Hermes’ sight, and B - to get Hephaestus to make some good locks to install on the door. Also, to spend a whole afternoon just sitting in the wine closet and bask in the glory of good alcohol.  
Hermes shrugged and walked off again, this time disappearing down a hall, only to be replaced by Apollo, who still had that grin plastered to his face.  
“You like it?”  
Dionysus poked a bottle gently. He could feel a grape wine blossom at his left ear.  
“Yeah. I do.” He shrugged. “Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. And if it does get bad, I could just bail, go back home to Ariadne.”  
The thought of his wife tugged something inside of him. She had encouraged him go, to have some bro-time, and she had promised to visit at least every week.  
Still, he missed her already.  
Perhaps Apollo picked up on his thoughts, because he put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.  
“Hey, Dio? I just wanted to say. You know. Thank you for indulging me in this.”  
“It’s no prob-”  
“Seriously.” Apollo’s face fell, making the gleam in his eyes dull down. “I needed it. Thank y-”  
“I call dips on this room! It’s the biggest. Also, it has easy access to the fire-escape!”  
Hermes’ voice rang from down the hall and pulled the two out of their thoughts.  
“Dips?” Dionysus said.  
“The biggest room?” Apollo whispered.  
They looked at each other for a moment, before racing down the hall towards the bedrooms.


	2. Three Gods and a Pile of Soft Furniture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In hindsight, they should have gotten some furniture before they moved in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some weird conversations going on over at Discord.

In hindsight, Apollo thought he should have fixed them up with some more furniture before they moved in. His own standards weren’t too high, he was in this for the experience. For the authenticity. After all, they didn’t have recliners back in ancient Greece, he could take what he got. Sure, he would make sure to get some of his things. He couldn’t leave his lyre and stereo on Olympus. But the furniture, he wanted to find that himself. He wanted to do as the mortals did, search through adds and go to IKEA.  
Dionysus said he couldn’t very well take his things, because it wasn’t all his, it was theirs, his and Ariadne’s. And Hermes, well, he had just shrugged.  
“Why would I want to bother moving all my things when I can just go and steal some more?”  
No one had bothered to discuss it.  
Not that the couch wasn’t great, but it got a bit crammed with three grown gods.  
Especially with Hermes hugging the blanket. Didn’t those thieving fingers ever sleep? He had to settle for Dionysus as a cuddly cover, and had woken up with a grape stuffed up his nose.  
As soft sunlight streamed through the bare windows, he felt the energy return to his body. He was useless at night, unless there was a good party or a concert going on. But mornings? He lived for mornings. It came with the job.  
The sun would do fine without him, he knew that. Especially with the sun chariot on autopilot. Life was a lot easier with autopilot. It gave him the freedom to do other things. Like cooking breakfast.  
From deep down in his gut came a loud rumble.  
While Dionysus just grumbled, Hermes’ eyes shot open.  
“Time to run!”  
He threw off his blanket - which very uconveniently landed on the floor out of Apollo’s reach - and jumped off the couch to stretch.  
“Run? You do not have cops after you already?”  
“Never know, bro. Got to stay in shape. Also, running is just a way of traveling in your neighbourhood. Highly recommended.” He crouched down by his duffle bag and started rummaging through it. There was a suspicious sound of metal against metal. Then he dragged out a runner’s outfit which colours gave Apollo vivid flashbacks to the 80s, and a handfull of pennies fell to the floor. He briefly considered asking why on earth Hermes had a duffle bag filled with coins, but thought better of it. Sometimes, you didn’t want the story. Sometimes, it was better not to ask.  
He had learned that the hard way.  
“I am going for a jog,” Hermes explained and carried the clothes to the bathroom, leaving a trail of pennies.  
On Apollo’s chest, Dionysus mumbled again, shifted, and started snoring silently. Apollo sighed.  
Alright, he needed coffee now. Not to wake up, he never had problems waking up, but to feel like a decent godly being again. To be able to restrain himself from burning Hermes’ outfit, which, surely, only belonged in certain themed clubs and not on the street in public.  
“Hey, Dio,” he whispered, but there was no answer. Then he tried poking Dionysus in the ribs, but it only earned him an especially high snore.  
“Alright. New plan.” As carefully as he could, he started wriggling whilst pushing his brother off him. It left him in an awkward position halfway off the couch, but since there still wasn’t any reaction from the other, he decided to drop the politeness. In one quick movement he pulled away, ending up on the floor, leaving Dionysus to flop down on the couch.  
Still there was no reaction except for an increase in volume. Apollo sighed in relief.  
“I am off,” Hermes proclaimed and showed up in the doorway to the living room.  
Ouch, those colours were loud.  
“Yeah, alright. Just. Don’t tick off someone with epilepsia, okay?”  
“That only happened once!” Hermes grumbled as he disappeared out the door.  
Apollo picked up the abandoned blanked and threw it over his sleeping brother, who kept snoring with his face in an unflattering angle. Without hesitating, he found his phone on the floor and took a picture to send to Ariadne. Just in case she needed something to remind her that alone time did have its perks. Also, he did owe her for allowing Dionysus to move with him. He owed his brothers too, he remembered. The least he could do was make breakfast.  
In the kitchen, he opened the door to the fridge, only to remember that even though they were stocked with kitchen utilities left by the previous owners, they hadn’t actually bought any food yet. Right now, the only edible thing they had was Dionysus’ grapes.  
It dawned on him - pun intended - that this also meant something much, much worse.  
He groaned loudly and hit his head against the fridge.

It was one thing to forget beds. That could happen to better gods. But to forget coffee? That was unforgivable. And that was how he found himself out on the streets in the early morning, three large bags of groceries in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Usually he would have preferred breakfast before doing anything at all, but as long as there was coffee, it should be enough to get him as far as to the stove to make some pancakes. Then, they would have to start thinking about how to find some fur-  
Apollo stopped in his tracks as he rounded a corner. There, lying on the sidewalk, was a huge pile of beanbags in various colours. For good measure, he took a huge sip of his coffee. After all, it could just be a trick of the light, and caffeine should clear that right up.  
But no, once he had emptied half the cup, the pile was still there. There was even a handwritten sign on the top of it.  
Free  
Alright, so it wasn’t a mattress or a dining table, but beanbags did apply as furniture. Didn’t they? There were only a couple of blocks home, so he didn’t even have to carry them very far. He looked at his bags of groceries and his cup of coffee. He sure couldn’t carry seven beanbags in addition. He couldn’t even pick them up!  
But from behind, he heard the steady sound of someone running towards him.  
“Hey, man. Oh, you got food! Great!”  
Apollo turned to see the very brightly coloured Hermes, not a drop of sweat on his face, but his cheeks slightly reddened. There sure were a lot of perks to being a god.  
“I think I found us some furniture too.”  
Hermes studied the pile of beanbags. “Free stuff? Free stuff is nice. Not as nice as things that were not supposed to be free, but you know.”  
Apollo managed to grab one in the same hand has the grocery bags.  
“Take the rest and let’s get them home before anyone else finds them.”  
“Dude, you are just taking one? I can’t carry six beanbags.”  
“They don’t weigh a thing, come on.”  
“Uh, not fair.”  
Apollo rolled his eyes. “I have groceries and coffee. You can take the bags. Just… Stack them or something.”  
“Why don’t you pour the coffee out, man. Then you have a free hand.”  
His cheeks flushed and he could practically feel himself radiate at that.  
“How dare you tell me to pour out perfectly good coffee.”  
“Then just finish the coffee first.”  
“I am going to enjoy it, not just chug it like a beer at a frat party. I payed money for this!”  
Hermes groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  
“Apollo, we are gods. We can just conjure money.”  
“Says the guy with the duffle bag full of pennies.”  
“I have a perfectly good reason for that, thank you very much.”  
“Why pennies? Why not notes?”  
“I said, I have a reason.”  
“Hermes…”  
“Yeah?”  
“Just grab the beanbags.”  
“... Alright.”

By the time Dionysus woke up, Apollo had already made a stack of pancakes the same height as their stack of beanbags, which Hermes had actually managed to hoist home. Dionysus blinked and considered both stacks on on the floor with tired eyes.  
“What have you two done now?”  
“Nothing!” Hermes grabbed a few pancakes from the top of the pile and threw them in Dionysus’ lap. “Why do you always assume we did something bad? Why can’t it just be that we did something weird?”  
“You sure did something weird. Why did you stack seven bean bags on top of each other on the floor?” Dionysus asked them and started munching his pancakes.  
Apollo was sitting on the couch, eating his own food from a plate. He had taken the liberty to pick some grapes from Dionysus’ hair while he slept to eat with the pancakes. Then it almost looked healthy and balanced. Unlike someone - he scowled briefly at Hermes who was eating a whole pancake at once by stuffing it into his mouth - he knew how to savour breakfast time.  
“It is art. Hermes bet me I couldn’t make a stack of pancakes to match the beanbags.”  
“But when did we get beanbags?”  
“Just now. A lot of things happen while you sleep.”  
Hermes swallowed his mouthful of pancakes. “You would be too easy to rob, Dio. I bet I could have stolen your underwear while you are out cold.”  
“Is that a threat?”  
“I was rather thinking of it as a challenge.”  
Dionysus grabbed his pancakes and got up to inspect the beanbags, his eyes still bloodshot and tired. Then he toppled the stack over with a light push.  
“My art!” Apollo complained. He had known this had to happen sooner or later, but he was rather proud of having stacked the beanbags by the colours of the rainbow. He was less agitated when he saw Dionysus crawl into the heap and settle on it with a content hum.  
“This is not too bad,” he said and closed his eyes. “Hey, Mimi, get me a glass of wine for breakfast?”  
Hermes tried his best to answer around his mouthful of pancakes - really, breakfast was wasted on his man - but realized he had to swallow before anyone could decipher his speech.  
“No. Get it yourself. You’re being lazy.”  
Dionysus just huffed, and vines started sprouting from underneath the beanbags. They grew over the floor and into the kitchen, and Apollo could hear the door to the wine closet open and close. Soon the vines retreated, dragging a bottle of wine, a glass, and an opener over the floor. They even opened the bottle with a pop, and poured it into the glass, handing it to their master, who took it. After a sip, he sighed happily.  
“It’s like sitting in a pile of grapes. I could get used to this. Though, I am not a big fan of plastic. I think I would prefer some in fabric.”  
“I am sure we can find that somewhere.”  
“I am sure I can steal that somewhere.”  
Apollo cut a piece of his pancake and chewed it slowly, savouring the taste. He looked around their small living room, which suddenly seemed a lot more cozy with the smell of pancakes and the colourful pile on the floor.  
They could make this work.


	3. Three Gods and an Ikea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheap mass produced furniture is not really Hermes' thing. After all, he could just steal the real stuff from some deserving rich guy! But no~ Apollo wants to be authentic about it.  
> But maybe Ikea ain't so bad after all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pinterest collections of the three gods' preferences in interiour design
> 
> https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/dumb-bros-apollos-room/
> 
> https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/dumb-bros-hermes-room/
> 
> https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/dumb-bros-dios-room/
> 
> A map of Ikea: https://www.ikea.com/ms/en_US/img/MLS/canton_map.gif

 “Why are we doing this?” Hermes found himself asking yet again. The first time had been when Apollo suggested it while cooking breakfast. The second had been as they waited for the subway. The third was when a rather high college kid had taken to eating Dionysus’ grapes in the too crammed carriage. And the fourth was right here, at the parking lot in front of the large, blue building with the yellow letters.

 The answers had been as follows:

_  “Because Dio is getting too attached to the beanbags, and has taken to growling when I tell him to come out of the pile.” _

_  “Because traveling by mortal transportation is more authentic.” _

 And his favourite -  _ “Because this guy deserves to be thought a lesson. Let’s dump him in this one, it has diapers and rotten bananas.” _

 “I could just  _ steal _ us some furniture,” Hermes grumbled, just like he had several times earlier that day. “I got us the towels.”

 “And as much as we appreciate the monogram towels,” Apollo said, sounding slightly tired with the conversation, “Especially the extra large ones with DTjr in gold letters. I still believe Dio and me would both appreciate to pick out our own things.”

 “Seconded,” Dionysus said. He stretched and Hermes could actually  _ hear _ something pop in his back. Okay, so maybe beanbags and a couch was not the best permanent solution, but Hermes couldn’t really see the big problem. Just last evening, when Dionysus had crawled into the pile of beanbags and Apollo had crashed on the couch, he had gone out and stolen a perfectly fine mattress from a local rich dude, which he had slept on in his otherwise naked room. It was a state of the art mattress, probably much better than anything they could find at Ikea. Not that quality was a big issue. He had spent many nights in sleeping bags, shady hostels, behind containers, on trains, and once inside an air vent as he waited for the bank to close for the day.

 Apollo sipped his third cup of coffee and looked at the Ikea with determination. “I hear this place is big. Let’s stick together.”

“I need more wine glasses,” Dionysus said. “Kitchen section first?”

 That was enough to make Apollo grin. Of course, Hermes though. He had been cursing that very morning over only having one pan. Apparently, then he couldn’t make scrambled eggs and pancakes at the same time, and if he had to make the pancakes first and the eggs after, the pancakes would go cold. Oh, what a  _ disaster _ .

 Hermes, supportive as always, had suggested he could eat the pancakes as Apollo made them. If needed, he could just stand with his mouth open, and Apollo could throw the pancakes straight in. Or he could eat the eggs raw and jump around for a bit.

 Apparently, that was a “stupid idea” and “unsafe for his health” and he had been told to “get out of my kitchen”, though not with such kind words.

 

The other two took the lead straight to the marketplace, where the cookshop and tableware sections were in the first rooms. Hermes shoved his hands into his pockets and glared at a stack of cutlery. 

 He just  _ knew _ the quality of kitchen applicants at Ikea sucked. He could  _ feel _ it. If he had bothered to steal something here, he wouldn’t even be able to sell it on the street. People would laugh at him if he tried. 

 If asked, he could have stolen them some first class silverware and crystal wine glasses. Dionysus  _ loved  _ crystal wine glasses. 

 He had just decided to once again declare how stupid this was, when a woman cut him off on her way to a shelf filled with wooden cutting boards, and he was pushed into a row of coffee mugs. 

 Coffee mugs with cheap enamel, he noted briefly, as they feel to the floor and broke. Well, now they were worth even less, if possible.

 “ _ Uff da _ ,” he winced.

 “Hermes!” Dionysus shouted, and Apollo groaned.

 “Two minutes. That must be a new record. ” he said. “We can’t take him anywhere.”

The two shared a look, then grabbed one of Hermes’ arms each and dragged him backwards into the entrance hall. 

“Wait, hold on…” he began, but they dropped him and let him fall to the concrete floor.

“There is a restaurant somewhere,” Apollo said. “Find it and stay put.”

“Or the ball pit, you child,” Dionysus suggested, flipping his long, dark hair, before he followed Apollo back into the marketplace.

“You are  _ younger than me _ ! I still have your  _ baby pictures _ !” Hermes called after him, but neither paid him any attention. 

 A couple of people gave him weird glances, but he let his head fall back to the floor and closed his eyes, ignoring the looks. 

 There had to be something of value here, though. If nothing else, he had heard their gingerbread cookie dough was good. He tried to reach out through the crowd of wallets, cell phones, wedding rings and even a pretty expensive Rolex up on the first floor in the other end of the building.

 There, upstairs, was the source of a string made of opportunities, which tugged at his senses - cheap meatballs sold for considerable profit.

 

Okay, so the meatballs were good. He wasn’t going to argue about that. After all, he did enjoy to test out local cuisine, even if it was debatable whether Swedish food could be considered local when they were in North-America. Could an Ikea be considered a Little Sweden?

 If it was… 

 His explorer sense was tingling. 

 Apollo had told him to stay put, but come on. He was immune to getting lost. That had only ever happened once, and that was due to a new highway, fifty cans of beer from Svalbard, a sure bet that wasn’t so sure after all, a car Hephaestus had constructed for Aphrodite but Hermes borrowed for a spin without asking, and an unplanned trip from Nicaragua to Calgary. Totally not his fault.

 The ostrich had been a surprise, though.

 Anyway…

 At least he could check out what the big hype was. There were a lot of people here, so there had to be something worth doing except looking at cheap wine glasses. And the restaurant was rather boring. Crowded and noisy in all the wrong ways. It wouldn’t hurt to find a pillow, at least. 

 He took a look at today’s shoe choice. He’d gone with blue high tops with the usual embroidered wings on the ankle of either one. Now, that wouldn’t do on concrete floors. He shook his feet under the table.

“Guys, we need to change.”

 The very edge of his right embroidered wing let go of the fabric of his shoes. 

“Come on, get to work.”

 The left one stretched itself out from the fabric in one fluid motion, turning from itched thread into soft, white feathers. It flapped ever so slightly, as if it was making sure it really had transformed completely. The right one was just about to stitch itself back on again.

“Hey, now. Lefty is ready for action. You can’t be any worse, can you?” Hermes shook his right foot until the wing unstitched again. Slowly and reluctantly, it flapped and turned into a fully formed bird wing. 

 The left wing started moving rapidly, and he had to use force to make sure his foot didn’t lift from the ground. The right one took its time, starting out slowly and gradually gaining force. When both wings were in sync, the shoes began vibrating, becoming slightly out of focus. It looked as if Hermes suddenly needed glasses. As the wings slowed down again, the vibration stopped, and he was left with a pair of comfortable Nike walking shoes. 

 The wings flapped again. Then the right one lay down against the side of the shoe, and its feathers shaped back into embroidery stitching. Hermes huffed.

“You were in a hurry, huh. Thanks anyway.”

 The left wing moved and stretched, and he bent down to stroke it gently. It purred under his fingers, then it too lay back down and turned into threads.

“Sometimes I am not sure who are weirder, you guys or the snakes,” Hermes mumbled, mostly to himself. 

 From his side, he heard a  _ thump _ , making him look up.

 A kid about 5 was staring at him, her mouth wide open. Her red lingonberry juice box had fallen to the floor. The father groaned and got down on the floor to clean up, unaware of the events that had just taken place under the table next to them.

 Hermes winked and put his finger to his mouth. She nodded slowly, her mouth still agape. Then she put her own finger to her mouth and hushed loudly.

The showroom department on the first floor would have been an excellent place for a game of hide and seek, or maybe cops and robbers. But from experience, he knew that strangers generally weren’t keen on playing with him in big warehouses unless they had real guns and handcuffs, and he had a bag of money. 

 In America, it was rather easy to find strangers with guns and make them chase him with violent intents. Still, this wasn’t the time. Maybe he should come back after opening hours? He would have to remember that the next time he had a mafia on his trail.

 It had been funnier to explore Stockholm and actual Sweden than it was to walk around Ikea. It only took him about five minutes to decide upon that. There were just too many people with carts clogging up the halls, forcing him to walk through the fake furnished apartments. Even he thought that was annoying, and he had been to New Delhi!

 Finally he gave up and found himself a room that was supposed to look like a teenage bedroom, or possibly a bachelor man-cave, where he let himself fall on top of a dark grey couch. 

 He didn’t normally feel this tired after just five minutes of shopping. And he hadn’t even picked up anything except the meatballs. He really did enjoy visiting markets around the world, to oversee trades and haggle with local merchants, but maybe he was just out of practice? It had been a while. The best part of exploring was to enjoy a place without all the stress and commotion anyway. Maybe chilling in a room at Ikea actually was a decent idea?

 From the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a serving size bag of cheese doodles and opened it. Just as he was about to stuff the first one into his mouth, his eyes fell on the monstrosity in the other end of the room.

_ A bunk bed. _

 A  _ metal  _ bunk bed.

 Gods dammit. If he wasn’t so done right now, he would have taken his snack and just left. The bed gave him bad prison vibes. Some of his favourite people had spent their lives in beds like that. Even  _ he _ had spent more nights than strictly necessary in bunk beds. Terrible mattresses. Old stains. Creaking metal every time your bunkmate moved. 

 In disapproval, he instead chose to rest his eyes on the picture on the wall above him. It featured an old-fashioned aeroplane, industrial looking spotlights lighting it up like a mini art gallery.

 Well, he  _ did _ like airplanes. He had given the Wright brothers some pointers, after all.

As he sat on the couch and crunched his cheese doodles with yellow fingers, he had to admit, this wasn’t too bad. The grey and black furniture, the details of the strong primary colours. Just run over the bunk bed with a borrowed tanks and add a king size instead, and he’d be good to go. And a small cooler, of course, for his Red Bull. 

 He stood up and checked out the tag on the triple spot lamps that were highlighting the large print of the aeroplane. 

_ Hektar. _

Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and wrote it down in his notes. Sure, they weren’t very valuable. He could probably find some of way better quality someplace else. 

 But they were nice.

 Soon, he had made a long list of items in the made up room that he thought he wouldn’t hate to actually purchase and bring back home. And it was just  _ practical _ , okay. Stealing one item of furniture at the time, that would take a while. Especially if he wanted to only pick out furniture he really liked and steal it from snobby, rich people. Snobby rich people often had such a bad taste in furniture.

 At least now he had a task to fill his time with instead of just walking around without a goal. First he went through the display rooms, writing down items he thought looked nice. He even found a complimentary stack of notepads and sharpened pencils, which he might have grabbed a dozen or so of and stuffed in his pockets. Once in a while, he closed his eyes and felt for something more valuable than the rest. There were some things of higher quality, even here. Such as a blue velvet wing chair he felt pretty certain Apollo would like once he got his reading corner established, and a leaf shaped wooden side table he wrote down for Dionysus’ sake. 

 But when he saw a queen sized bed named  _ Hemnes _ , he had to admit he was very close to just lay down and test it out right there and then. They practically had the same name! 

 Not to mention the headboard was perfect for using handcuffs.

 Not that he would ever say that out loud.

 Fine, he might have said that very thing out loud right in front of an old couple.

 But it was meant to be, okay!

He had half expected to find Apollo and Dionysus down in the market hall, but then again, it was a big building. Should he get things for their common areas as well, or had the others already picked that up? As he was considering adding a crocodile shaped anti-slip underlay for the tub, he sent his brothers a text to ask. When no one answered, he threw the crocodile in the cart. He doubted any of the others would have gone for the crocodile anyway. And if you snooze and do not answer your texts on the phone your brother gave you for your birthday, you won’t get to choose the interior design of the bathroom. Hermes threw in a shower curtain with cartoon fish too, just for good measure. 

 As he searched for the things on his list, he kept picking up other items as well. Especially when he was almost at the end and reached the section with posters and prints. Because you could never have enough maps and pictures of skylines and famous landmarks. He might have just gone a bit crazy there, filling up whatever was left of space in his cart.

 And when he found a print of two big, blue feathers…

 Oh boy.

 Not that he knew much about paintings, but this was  _ art _ . Nothing flashy. Not expensive. Definitely not very valuable. Soft brushes of dark navy aquarelle, struck with a bold line of white. Simple, yet beautiful.

 Under his curls, a little above and behind his ears, he could feel something flutter. Quickly, Hermes laid his hands to his head to keep them from poking out from under his hair. 

“Stay down,” he whispered, and the fluttering stopped. A quick look around told him no one had noticed, and he hurried to pick up the print and a matching frame before moving on. 

How he should have been able to get through the self-service department without his powers was beyond him. Here he needed an extra cart, just for flat boxes containing pieces of furniture, including the parts for his soon-to-be bed. As it was, he just did his “luggage trick”, as Apollo once had ever so poetically named it, and made the items in his carts much lighter so he could move them with one hand on each. A guy gave him an interested glance, and Hermes did his best to flex in his hoodie so it would look like he was fit, not just lazy. 

 One last time he attempted to send his brothers a text, but with no answer, he pushed his carts to the self-checkout line and scanned a debit card. The price was surprisingly high, but then again, he had purchased enough for a whole bedroom, and a bit more. 

 Not that it mattered. He wasn’t paying with his own money anyway. Thank you mister rich, white, dude who was rude at that café last week, and who didn’t pay good enough attention to his wallet! It had felt pretty good to take it and leave all the cash in the tip-jar.

 At the thought, something took to flap just ever so slightly under his hair again. He ruffled his hair up so it would be a bit more fluffy and curly, hoping no one would notice. 

 There was a small food market and a bistro in the exit hall, and he decided to stack up on gingerbread dough and Swedish delicacies. Maybe he could remove the labels with the Ikea logo and use them as winter equinox presents? Pretend he had actually gone to Europe for them?

 Just as he was about to stack a tower of nine boxes with gingerbread dough on top of one of his carts, an announcement over the radio caught his attention.

_ “This is a call for a missing child - Hermes! Your brothers are waiting for you at the furniture pick-up at the exit. If anyone sees a young boy walking alone, please escort him to the exit or to a store employee.” _

 Suddenly he didn’t really feel like getting his brothers anything for winter equinox after all. Or maybe he’d give them watered out boxed wine and a snake nut can with an actual live python.

 With a scowl, he put the gingerbread dough back on the shelf and backed out of the food market to look towards the exit, just on the other side of the hall. Standing by three stocked carts and an awfully dressed store employee, he could see his brothers. Apollo was tip-toeing to look for him in the crowd of people exiting the store. Dionysus was chatting to the Ikea-guy, and didn’t seem anxious at all. 

 Hermes briefly wondered if he should just sneak out of the warehouse and let the others believe he had drowned in the ball pit, but just as he was about to pull out his phone to look for a blueprint of the building, Apollo spotted him. He waved and called his name, grinning widely. Oh boy, Hermes could see the spark in his eyes all the way from here. There was no other choice than to walk over, before the whole hall lit up like the Fourth of July and the mortals got suspicious. 

 “Where have you been?” Apollo said and gave him a rather unnecessary embrace. “I was so worried when we couldn’t find you!” Then he pushed Hermes away and glared at him, the spark of his eyes turning into a dark embery glow. “I thought I told you to stay put!”

 “I went shopping, no big deal!”

 “For the record,” Dionysus said, “I assumed you were just hiding from us in the deep end of the ball pit.” But Hermes did notice that the newest grapes in his hair, which had been green just minutes ago, were now slowly ripening into purple. Same did the mortal, but he didn’t seem put of or scared, just nodded to himself as if he had just gotten his suspicions confirmed. Some mortals were just like that, Hermes had experienced. As if they were just waiting for something magical to happen and were mentally prepared for anything.

 “What was the deal with the announcement anyway? Couldn’t you guys just pick up a phone? I sent you loads of texts!”

 Both of them blushed and coughed. 

 Apollo stuffed his hands into the pockets of his red leather biker jacket. 

 “I am out of juice from running Spotify and PokémonGo on our way here.”

 Dionysus started fiddling with his amethyst necklace. 

 “I left mine in the beanbag pile.”

 Hermes groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Guys, I gave you those so you would be  _ easier _ to get a hold on! It is gods like you who make my job as a messenger god harder, you know.” He glared at them through his fingers. “Remember when I said I would get you pagers unless you actually checked your emails? I promise you, I will permanently stick pagers to your foreheads.”

 “Uh, Hermy?” Apollo pointed at him.

 “I’ll get you dudes GPS tracked. You keep calling me irresponsible, yet you  _ still _ have not bought a powerbank? I’ve told you to do so a hundred times. Is your battery ever not flat, Apollo? And let us not forget it was  _ you  _ who bailed on  _ me _ , huh? Ballpit. Why on mother Gaea would I be chillin’ in a ballpit with five year olds?”

 “Mimi, your wings are showing…”

 He wasn’t proud of the surprised sound that escaped him. In desperation he threw the hood over his head, but he could still feel his wings push against the fabric. Apollo and Dionysus smiled gently, and the employee kept nodding to himself. Maybe the guy wasn’t smart all all? Maybe he was just high as a kite?

 “Let’s get out of here,” Hermes mumbled and pushed his carts out of the doors.

 

They stood for a while with their carts on the parking lot, just awkwardly waiting for someone to break the silence. Eventually, it was Apollo who cleared his throat.

 “It wasn’t all that, this Ikea. I mean, they had stopped selling that golden cutlery set they used to have.”

 “I know where to get some,” Hermes mumbled. “I’ll get you a full set. Real gold.”

 Soon, he could feel his older brother’s heavy arm over his shoulders. “Really?”

 “Yeah. Really.”

 From his other side, Dionysus bumped their hips.

 “You wouldn’t happen to know of a good place to find curtains?”

 “With bohemian patterns? I know the perfect bitchy rich woman to steal them from. She runs a scam radio show where she charges people to talk to dead people. I think she has loads of crystals too.”

 At his ears, he could feel his wings retract and soon he could adjust them to hide under his curls. Even though they were a part of him, it sometimes felt easier to make his shoes do his bidding. At least with the shoes, he could offer a deluxe shoe wax to make them turn into just about anything.

 “We bought a whole lot of stuff,” he noted. “Well, you did. My stuff was generously paid for by a right-wing idiot.”

 “Generously indeed,” Dionysus agreed. “But… One more favour, Hermy?”

 “State your poison.”

 “We need help to get this shipment home.”

 His brothers looked at him expectantly. He sighed, but there was no bad feelings to it, just dramatics. He drew a deep breath and put his fingers to his mouth, then let out the most ear-pinching taxi whistle he could manage, making Dionysus cover his ears. Apollo was strangely immune to high noises. Too many rock concerts?

 It only took a couple of seconds, then they could hear the sound of an engine and tires screeching in the distance. Soon, an amazon delivery truck sped into the parking lot and stopped right in front of them as if someone had stepped on the break, leaving a trail of black tracks behind it. There were no drivers behind the wheel, though. 

 Hephaestus had owned him one, fixing up the liberated truck. Hermes had given him the ostrich to trade. 

 “Load her up,” he said and patted the side of the truck, making the back doors open on their own.

 Once the carts were empty and the truck was full, he jumped into the driver’s seat and hooked up his Bowling for Soup Spotify playlist to the stereo. Before he could close the door, Apollo cleared his throat again.

 “Uhm, Hermy. This truck only has one extra seat?”

 “Yeah, so?”

 Apollo pointed at himself and Dionysus.

 “Are we supposed to fight for the honor?”

 “No,” Hermes said with a wink and pointed to the seat. There, safely strapped in the seat belt, was the print of the two blue feathers. “Shot-gun has already been claimed.”

 Then he slammed the door shut and drove off, laughing maniacally. 

 

Hermes had just finished setting up their new entertainment system (courtesy of the mean rich guy from the café), and was about to find GTA, when Dionysus finally reappeared from his room.

 “I finished decorating!”

 Apollo put away his ukulele. He had snuggled up in the new blue velvet wing chair in the reading corner by the window. Somehow, the whole living room now consisted of comfortable furniture - aka the old couch, the wing chair and the pile of beanbags - the massive entertainment system, books, DVDs, posters and an insane amount of green plants and vines. Hermes had actually gotten his hands on a machete from a thug who was going to spend his time in a bunkbed for the next few months, but Dionysus had confiscated it the moment it entered the apartment. 

 “You’ve been in there for two days. What took you so long?”

 “Yeah,” Hermes agreed. “That wall-paint Hephaestus and Athena got us dried in like five minutes.” 

 Dionysus huffed. “Some of us like to take our time to perfect our surroundings.” He gestured to the jungle that had inhabited their living room. 

 “Exactly,” Hermes whined and pointed to the huge entertainment system that covered most of their wall. “Perfection!”

 Apollo got out of his chair and pulled Hermes up by the collar of his t-shirt. “Come on. Let’s have a look at Dio’s room. You can show us your piece of art afterwards.”

There were so many patterns and colours that Hermes felt a case of vertigo coming up. Apparently, that was an invitation for his wings to stretch, as if to help his brain regain its balance.

 “I think I am going to have a migraine.” 

 Dionysus glared at him. 

 “But it is nice! Cosy! But may I suggest blowing out those candles. I think it is a fire hazard.”

 Apollo hit him in the back of the head, totally undeserving.

 The whole room was so covered in patterned textiles that it was like being in a Moroccan carpet market.  

 And he knew, he had taken a short trip to Morocco just yesterday to buy carpets for his little brother. Carpets which were now covering the floor. The bed was almost hidden behind a slightly see-through canopy. The light from the window turned purple and golden through heavy curtains. There were pouffes all over the floor. At first he couldn’t spot the walls behind decorations of brass, dark wood and crystals, but then he realized it was because they were covered in a wallpaper with huge flowers, which blended perfectly into the decor. Not to mention everything were interlaced with the now common vines, which seemed to have spread everywhere except for in Hermes’ and Apollo’s bedrooms. 

 “It is very you, Dio,” Apollo said, nodding to himself. “It suits you. Just one question. How do you plan on vacuuming this place without accidentally sucking up a curtain?”

 “You guys vacuum?” Hermes asked. The question awarded him a couple of sceptical looks.

 “You... don’t?” Dionysus said. 

 Apollo seemed slightly terrified, for some reason. “Hermy, show us your room.”

 

He was rather pleased with the interior. Nothing expensive, really, except for the computer. You needed a super good computer when hacking into government websites. He had taken a lot of inspiration from the showroom in Ikea, with charcoal and black furniture, spiced up here and there with details of primary colours. A large part of the yellow details was police tape, which he had stolen the previous night from a crime scene he himself had caused. On the outer wall, he had managed to expose the brick wall. The posters and prints from Ikea covered the rest of the walls, in between blueprints for targets- uhm…  _ interesting _ buildings. The print of the two blue feathers had been given the honorary spot over his bed, three  _ Hectar _ spotlights shining on it. He had considered magically turning it larger, but somehow he felt like it would lose some of its fragile and delicate vibe. 

 For some reason, his brother’s didn’t seem as awestruck by his interior design skills. Their jaws had dropped, sure, but they were staring at the floor.

 “How…” Apollo whispered.

 “We’ve lived here for less than a week,” Dionysus said, and the leaves in his hair seemed to shake in an unexisting wind. “How on earth did you manage to drink  _ so many Red Bulls _ ?”

 “Oh, these?” Hermes pushed some of the empty cans of the floor with his foot. “I went to Sweden, bought a whole bunch. Did you know that there, you can deliver them back to the store and get money for them? Great concept! I told Artemis, she loved it. Less chance of people littering. Even old cans have a value. I am saving up until I go back.”

 “Sure, but… We can’t even see the floor,” Apollo said and gestured to the wall-to-wall Red Bulls.

 A small pile constructed by cans and dirty clothes moved, and he and Dionysus jumped back. 

 “What was that?” Dionysus asked, his voice slightly thinner than usual.

 “Oh, that is just Rodney.”

 “Rodney?”

 “One of my snakes.”

 Apollo made a high pitched sound that would make most castrates proud, and straight up jumped into Dionysus’ arms. For a twink, he sure had some muscle. Had to be all the yoga he did, Hermes mused. 

 “ _ Snake _ ?” Apollo whined.

 “He is cool, he is cool. Chill. Though I do think he ate Samson.”

 “Samson?” Dionysus asked. He didn’t even seem tired, carrying a man probably twice his weight.

 “The rat.”

 With that, Dionysus karate kicked his door shut.

 “Guys?” Hermes called. Outside, he heard the two shuffle and run up and down the hallway. Soon, he recognized the unmistakable sound of duct tape being ripped into strips. 3M duct tape, if he wasn’t mistaking. 

 “Guys?” he tried again.

 “This room is isolated from now on! We are getting one of those hazard signs!” Apollo’s voice declared from the other side of the door.

 As they kept taping his door shut, Hermes opened the window to the fire escape. From there on, there was really no trouble climbing the walls over to the balcony. After all, he had once climbed The Pickle in London. A gentle touch unlocked the balcony door to the living room. Then he walked by the kitchen, to grab one of Dionysus’ Pepsi Cherry cans from the fridge. Back into the hallway, he leaned against Apollo’s door and watched as his brothers kept working, their backs turned against him. 

 As he opened his Pepsi, the two jumped and turned around wide eyed.

“How…” Apollo began, but Hermes shrugged.

“Easy peasy.”

“If so, you surely won’t mind if this door right here stays shut and locked,” Dionysus said and knocked on the door for emphasis.

“Meh.” Hermes sipped his drink. Parkour was always a good work-out. Any runaway should practice it. 

 Apollo threw the roll of tape into an open drawer in the dresser and sighed. “Just make sure we do not get any lose critters. At least not until  _ after  _ the housewarming party.” As he walked back to the living room, he called back over his shoulder. “And it is your turn to make dinner.”

“Actually…” Hermes grinned. “What would you say to warm nectar and gingerbread?”


	4. Three Gods and a Housewarming Party - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You just can't move into a new apartment without throwing a housewarming party! Especially when you have the god of wine, the god of music, and the god of carrying ten bags of groceries on your team. But of course, inviting a handful of deities always comes with a warning. Especially with strangers infiltrating their ranks.
> 
> Que platonic love, romantic love, violence, alcohol consumpion, mentions of sex and all those other good things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: The following two chapers contains heavy flirting (cringe), alcohol consumption, mentions of previous sexual abuse, and violence. If that is not your thing, I am sorry to say that it will be more frequent in the future of the story. 
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter has shifting POVs.
> 
>  
> 
> Sól and Máni are the goddess and the god of the sun and the moon in Norse mythology. They were such beautiful children, that their father named them after the sun and the moon (Sol and Måne in Norwegian/Danish/Swedish). As a punishment for such pride, the gods had the children pull the actual sun and moon in each their wagon pulled by horses. They are hunted across the sky by the wolves Sköll and Hati. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hávamál (Håvamål) is the “sayings of the high one”. These are rules set by Odin about how a good person should live. It includes rules about how to treat your guests and how to behave when you visit others. https://heimskringla.no/wiki/H%C3%A5vam%C3%A5l 
> 
>  
> 
> Ægir Bryggeri is a popular beer brand from Flåm, Norway. Independent called their Pale Ale one of the top ten Scandinavian beers in 2017. Ægir is also a Norse God, known for his mjød.
> 
> Here is a link to the layout of their apartment (the living room got a tad too small): https://bfire92.tumblr.com/post/185837498319/the-living-room-got-a-bit-too-small-but-ill
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer - I do not know my alcohol at all. I usually go for the nicest bottle that I can use as a vase once finished (like Bombay or Harahorn Gin). And since I ain’t American, I have no idea what I am doing here at all… Just beer (haha) with me.

Dionysus POV

Dionysus enjoyed a good party as much as the next guy. Probably more, even. He considered himself lucky that Apollo and Hermes were just as excited about throwing a housewarming party as he was. Or at least as he _had been_.

  Because as he followed the smell of pancakes and coffee into the kitchen that morning, his mood was considerably darker than it had been the previous evening. And it was not only because he was up way earlier than he would have liked to.

  “Got out on the wrong side of the bed?” Hermes asked, before he practically inhaled a pancake from his plate. His hair was still wet from the shower. No doubt he had been up as early as Apollo, just to go for a morning run. Dionysus sighed and picked a mug out of the cabinet above the sink, and Apollo filled it up with coffee and milk before he could even ask.

  “Talk to us, darling,” he joked, but there was genuine interest in his eyes.

  Dionysus sat down with his mug, taking comfort in the warmth that spread into his hands. 

  “I called up Ariadne. Turns out she had already made plans for tonight.”

  “Aw, shucks, man,” Hermes comforted, and shoved the whole stack of pancakes over to him. “You want some food?” 

  “What plans?” Apollo asked as he walked over and divided the stack over to three separate plates, making Hermes’ stack a little smaller than the others.

  “Hey!”

  “You’ve just swallowed four pancakes without even chewing. Here, eat some fruit.” With that Apollo picked up a banana from their fruit bowl and put it on top of Hermes’ pancakes. His younger brother didn’t mind at all, simply started to peeling it.

  “Ariadne and Athena are going to a Wine and Weaving Weekend in Vienna.”

  “Try saying that five times fast.” Hermes mumbled between his bites. Dionysus picked up one of his pancakes and started ripping it into bite size pieces. “She says she’ll come visit next weekend, and that I should flirt with some mortals for her. Send her a picture.” 

  “Good old stepmom Hera really could learn something from your wife, Dio. She is super chill.”

  “Well, Dear old Dad isn’t always easy to live with,” Apollo said. “Dio, stop playing with your food. Eat it instead.”

  Dionysus sighed and dropped the pancake. He didn’t really feel like eating. You’d think a week would be like a minute for someone who had lived as long as he had, but time wasn’t something he tried to think too much about. It would just drive him crazy, and he honestly didn’t much like going crazy. Been there, done that. Thanks, Hera.

  “Hey.” Apollo put a hand on his shoulder. “It will still be fun. We’ll have a great time, flirt with some cute mortals, invite a bunch of friends. Speaking of, Artemis is coming, and we invited Sól and Máni too.”

  “The Nordics?” Dionysus asked.

  “Yeah, Artemis and I were pen-pals with them once upon a time. We try to keep in touch. They’ll be putting their wagons on autodrive and tying a dogbone to the back to keep their wolves chasing them. It usually works whenever they need a break.”

  Hermes pulled a notepad and a pen from the pocket of his hoodie. “Should we go through the plans again? You were in charge of invitations. What is the status, except the sun and moon god and goddess?”

  Apollo started counting on his fingers. “Aphrodite is coming. In other words, someone is without a doubt going to get laid tonight, either indirectly because of her influence or directly because she herself takes interest in them. The muses are coming, except for Clio. Apparently, she is attending an evening lecture about the history of Burundi. Uhm, Dio, I hope you won’t take it personal that I didn’t say anything to the maenads? The last time…”

  “Yeah, that chihuahua didn’t stand a chance,” Hermes said, his eyes going blank and glossy. They stayed silent for a full minute in respect to their fallen comrade, Queen Bella. Dionysus had never really forgiven his… uhm… _eccentric…_ followers for that. Sure, they knew how to throw a good rave, but it really wasn’t worth it when they went all maniac. 

  Apollo coughed when a minute had passed, and continued. “And yesterday, I visited all our neighbours. Two of the apartments downstairs are empty this weekend anyway. They are going together to a beach house. Apparently, that is a thing they do quite often, so they said if we want to throw any more parties, we can talk on beforehand to plan. The third apartment downstairs is an ancient couple. They said they will just turn off their hearing aids. I asked whether that would be a problem for them, but they have been almost deaf for so long, they’ve learned sign language!” He did some vague gestures to prove his point, and Hermes scoffed. 

  “Dude, you just called me a pineapple in ASL. And some worse things in a lot of other languages”

  Apollo continued, but his cheeks were a bit pink. “The apartment across the hall are some really cool college girls. They said if we were throwing a party, then maybe they should do so too. But… Then they laughed and told me good luck. I am not sure I got the joke. Anyway, they are coming over here. In the apartment next to us, no one answered. I tried five times, but no answer, so I just left a note.”

  “Maybe they weren't at home?” Dionysus suggested.

  “Maybe. I’ll keep trying today. With no one above us, we do not really have to worry much about disturbing the rest of the building. I went around to let people know anyway, but no one seemed to care, as long as we kept the partying to the weekends. I actually got the impression that several of them found it funny. A few said they wanted to stop by.”

  “Okay then,” Hermes said and noted it all down. “Dionysus and I will go get refreshments and snacks today. You try to get in touch with our mystery neighbor and set up a playlist for tonight. _No karaoke_.”

  “Damn.”

  Dionysus felt his appetite return and started eating his now hors d'oeuvre sized pancake pieces. Ariadne would come visit next weekend. He would get to go and pick out alcohol for the party. They would have a good time.

  And hopefully no small animals would get sacrificed if he could help it. 

 

“Oh, this one is nice. It’s expensive.” Hermes picked up a bottle of chardonnay. “I could probably sell it for a profit.”

  “As much as I love nice and expensive wines, I do not think we want to waste it on wasted party guests, apologize the pun. Maybe for a dinner, not for a party,” Dionysus explained and found a different bottle which he added to their chart. “We’ll fill up with decent beer too, just to increase the quantity.” 

  Hermes put his bottle back on its place. “Tell me again why you need me for this.”

  “As a caddie. You will be carrying the bags with your amazing super-powers.”

  “I am hurt. You are just using me for my luggage trick.”

  Dionysus patted his brother’s head. “Yes, yes I am. Be a good donkey and go to the grocery store across the street. We need loads of chips. I’ll meet you outside with the cargo.”

  As he walked out, Dionysus could hear him mutter about “slave work”, but he knew it was all an act. Once he got the full responsibility to choose the snacks of his choice, he would fill up on twizzlers and cheetos. And, without a doubt, Red Bull and vodka for tonight. 

  The liquor store had a good selection of beer. He supposed he could go for a nice brand of a reasonable price. Money was not really such a big deal for them anyway, but as Hermes had lectured him thousands of time - _“If we keep materializing money, we’ll just cause inflation! So please use the money from my Olympus Stock Fund.”_

  His brother really was a god on the stock market, literally. 

  He found himself picking up one brand at the time, reaching out with his mind to consider each and every one of them. It must had looked tedious, because at one point, someone said

  “May I come with a suggestion?”

  Dionysus looked up from the IPA he was holding, and met the icy blue eyes of a man in his mid-twenties. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his beard was carefully trimmed. From his ear hang a fang, maybe from a serpent, the silver around its base decorated with twisting bands.

  The man was eyeing him, his gaze moving from Dionysus’ grape wine and ivy wreath, to his amethyst necklace, to his hair tied up in a messy bun. Then it politely settled on meeting his eyes. 

  “Do you know your beer?” Dionysus asked. He had to admit, he was a sucker for a human who could pick out a good bottle of just about anything, be it whiskey or lemonade.

  The other man smiled, and boy, that should be illegal, he thought. It was the kind of smile  that made the man’s eyes twinkle, his own stomach twist. Like a mix of the wide happy grin of Apollo that could light up a room, or the mischievous smirk of Hermes when he saw something he just had to get his hands on. 

  “I would consider myself an expert in beer brewing. What is the occasion?”

  “A party.”

  “Not something dark and heavy on the stomach, then. Something light, but still with the alcohol content to make people poetic. What about this? Imported from Norway, so the price is a bit heavy, but I am sure it will impress your guests. You could always buy the cheap stuff to use on the lesser guests, save this for your favourites.”

  From the shelf, the man picked out a can of Indian Pale Ale, ornamented with the same twisting ropes as the ones on his snake’s fang. 

  Dionysus tried to pronounce the name of the brewery, but failed. “Agar?”

  The man laughed. “ _Ægir_ ,” he said, and winked. “At least buy _one_ , otherwise you will be missing out. Or, are you more into wine, perhaps? Nice hair band, by the way.”

  Blood was rising in his cheeks. He should be used to people commenting on it by now. The ivy wrath he could take off, thereby pretending everything was just a normal headpiece. The grapes were a lot harder to remove. In the back of his mind, he was continuously telling them to avoid doing something embarrassing, like sprouting out blossoms. They could do that once they were out of the store. 

  “It is for the party.”

  “A theme party?”

  “No, not exactly, I just thought it looked nice.”

  “It does.” 

    Oh boy, those baby blues made him want to take the man with him home instantly. What had Ariadne said? _“Since I can’t be there myself, how about you flirt with some handsome man for me. Snap me a picture?”_

  He just loved his wife. They had a deal, decided upon thousands of years ago, and he did not feel the least bit guilty when he visibly checked the man out. The shirt with the heavy metal band logo made him look a bit dangerous, but the charcoal blazer and winning smile made Dionysus sure he would not be scaring the old women on the street. He was without a doubt Ariadne’s type with that long, black hair, that was for sure. After all, he should know. He rocket that hairstyle himself.

  “What’s your name, brewer? So I can call out your name if the beer turns out to be a disappointment.”

  “Ash. And yours, if you do not mind me asking?”

  “Dio,” he said and bit his lip while he pretended to think for a moment. “You... wouldn’t happen to have a pen?”

  “Even better, I have a phone.”

  Ash pulled a Nokia smartphone out from his pocket and unlocked it for him. Instead of going straight to the contacts, Dionysus opened the notebook and typed in their address. No need to give this guy his full phone number and mother’s maiden name just like that. 

  “If you show up, I’ll try the beer myself. If not, I will stick to wine, let the drunkards at the party chug down on this without even tasting it.”

  “That… Would truly be a crime. Are you blackmailing me?”

  “Maybe,” Dionysus teased as he handed him his phone back. Then he filled up his cart with a few six-packs of the chosen beer from the bottom shelf.

  “I love blackmail,” Ash said, his voice a bit husky, but surprised.

  As Dionysus walked away, he made sure to look back over his shoulder with a coy smile. Ash was still standing by the beers, watching him go with a soft expression.

 

Apollo’s POV

  Apollo tried one last time at eight in the evening. He knocked as hard as he could on the door of the apartment next to them, but still no one answered. Maybe Hermes was right, maybe they were out of town? No one could claim he hadn’t tried, he’d been by four times that day.

  “No answer?” Hermes asked as Apollo fell down into his new favourite wing chair in the living room. Well, one of two favourites. He might have bought another reading chair for his own bedroom, that one in yellow to match the deep blue limewash painted walls and golden art deco details. 

  “No. And I suppose the first people will show up within the next hour. So I suppose the show will just have to go on, and if we get any complaints, we just deal with them.”

  “Dude, they are probably not home. Chill. Grab a beer, let’s start drinking.”

  They had just opened each their can of the cheap beer from the grocery store (Dionysus was surprisingly protective of the expensive Scandinavian brand), when the doorbell rang. Apollo was half way out of his chair, when Dionysus called from his room.

  “I’ll get it! I’ll get it. You guys just sit.” He came jogging down the hall, his just dried hair hanging loose and even more wavy than usual. Any old leaves and grapes had been removed, leaving the wreath with lush young leaves and grape blossoms. 

  “Oh. Uh, hi... Hi! Grab a can, find a seat. You are the first,” Apollo heard and he stretched to look towards their door. It was some of their neighbors, the college girls, carrying six-packs of beer. 

  From there on, people started showing up. Sól and Máni came together, and Apollo got the usual strange feeling of looking through a portal to an alternate dimension when he opened the door for them. Here, Sól, the manifestation of the sun, was a goddess with long, strawberry-blond hair, freckles and skyblue eyes. Máni, the moon god, had hair and a beard so fair it was almost white, and his eyes were as dark blue as the sky before dawn. 

  “The wolves are taken care of. We used the very best reindeer bones, they won’t be giving up on those for a while,” Sól laughed as she hugged him. 

  Máni embraced him brotherly and patted his back hard enough for him to lose his breath. “They get very hungry from running after a wagon non-stop for almost 2000 years.”

  Just ten minutes after, a man with long dark hair showed up, presenting himself as Ash. Dionysus practically pushed Apollo out of the hallway, whispering to him that this was one of _his_ guests, and Apollo better keep his hands to himself and tell Hermes to do the same.

   But the highlight of the night was Artemis.

  Her silvery blonde hair was cut pixie short and practical, and she wore silver circlet. The white summer dress hanging loose on her petite, but athletic shape, could have made her seem more cute than fierce, if it was not for the leather wrap-around sandals and the heavy silver necklace in the shape of a pair of deer antlers. When he hugged her, he accidentally lifted her off the floor.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  “You’ve only been gone a week, you dolt,” she scolded. “Put me back down.”

  “Nope, no, you have to stay here in my arms now. I will carry you around bridal style all night.”

  “Oh no, you won’t!” She struggled, and eventually he let her back down with a laugh. While she straightened out her dress, she gesticulated to the man behind her. “Apollo, this is Oliver. A friend of mine. I met him the other day, and I thought the two of you would, uh, _get along_.”

  That was the great thing about having an aro/ace sister who had sworn off all romance - she was the perfect wingman. He never had to worry about them falling for the same guy or gal. At the same time, she was the person who knew him the best, and therefore recognized his type even through hunting binoculars on a several miles distance.

   Apollo offered his hand, and the man - Oliver - shook it politely. He had a good grip, Apollo noticed. 

  “Nice to meet you, Oliver.”

  “Likewise.”

  As usual, he could not help but trace the man's features, searching for any similarities to a lover long gone. Do not misunderstand - he appreciated every lover as their own individuals, it was simply an annoying habit he could not seem to shake. Focusing on the way someone smiled or moved their hands, on the way they spoke or walked. And true, it did not take long for him to zone in on those dark eyes, which shone purple in the light.

  Artemis scratched herself on the chest, like she had an itch right above her heart. It was a secret message from a language they had invented between themselves when they were young. So he was not a god then. And if he knew about their, uhm, family history, she would simply have said so. Apollo would have to control his tongue.

  As soon as Artemis and her friend had moved into the now cramped living-room, the last guests showed up. Aphrodite was fashionably late, of course making sure she was the last to arrive, arm in arm with Ares as a plus one. She looked stunning, as usual. There was something ancient and primordial about her, even though she didn’t look a day over 25. Maybe it was the natural looks - dark skinned with short curly hair, no make-up, a simple white tank top and jeans. Her only accessories were body art. There were roses blooming on her shoulder, a golden septum ring in her nose, and pearls in her ears. 

  While she kissed Apollo on both cheeks, Ares just huffed out a “Hi there.” He basically took up the whole hallway with his broad shoulders and attitude. If there had been any chance of Aphrodite flirting with anyone, it was gone. No one with a sense of self-preservation would even consider looking at her twice with such a consort. 

  Just as he had decided to knock it up a notch and grab himself another drink, and Terpsichore had announced there would be a dance-off on the patio, the doorbell rang again.

  And again. And a third time, just for good measure.

  Apollo opened the door, and outside stood a tall, thin woman in her mid 60s, her dark grey hair chopped short and her eyes burning with a fury Apollo was sure he had not seen since him and Ares had played Mario Kart together.

  “I did not consent to this noise!” the woman proclaimed. Apollo blinked.

  “Uhm, I visited all the apartments-”

  “I did not approve of you having a party at such un-godly hours.”

  He really wanted to make a joke there, but he bit his tongue.

  “You must be our neighbor! I’m Apollo, I just moved in!” He offered his hand for a handshake, but she slapped it away.

  “I suggest you send everyone here home and call it the night, young man.”

  “I did try to contact you. I even pinned a note to your door yesterday.”

  “I noticed. Now, are you going to stop this commotion?”

  “Well, I... “

  “Otherwise, I will have to take measures!”

  “A what now?”

  But the woman turned on her heel and marched, straight up marched (Athena would have been proud) back to her apartment, where she slammed the door shut behind her. 

   For a brief moment, he felt bad. Then again, if she had seen the note yesterday, why wait until the party was already on before complaining about it? His mother had once told him that he couldn’t make friends with everyone, and he supposed this was one of those times. So he closed the door, and decided whatever measures she chose to invoke, it surely couldn’t be something a room full of deities couldn’t handle. 

  It seemed like the whole party had briefly been paused to listen in to the discussion in the hall. Especially the mortal neighbors were staring expectantly at him. Then someone unpaused the atmosphere, and everything was back to normal. 

  He pushed his worries away to deal with later.

  After all.

  There were a pair of deep purple eyes on him the moment he entered the room, and they definitely weren’t Dionysus’.

  He grabbed a couple of the good beers and made his way through the room and over to the couch, where Oliver was eating grapes from a bowl (so that was where all of Dionysus’ ripe grapes had gone to). He looked around for his brother, and found him talking to his guest outside on the patio.

  “I hope you are not vegan,” Apollo said, because apparently his brain thought that counted for flirting. Oliver just frowned.

  “What, did you fill these with animal fat or something?”

  Apollo laughed and shook his head. “Nevermind. Is this… armrest available?” The rest of the couch was stuffed with people. 

  “Knock yourself out.” 

  Then Apollo did the very sexy thing of accidentally hitting his head against a lamp as he sat down. Oliver laughed. “Not literally.” 

  “Yeah, no, uhm. I did that on purpose. Beer?”

  Oliver took it and studied the can. “I haven’t tried this. European?”

  “Looks like it. Sól and Máni said it was good when they tried it earlier.”

  “Your friends have very unique names. You aren’t all in a cult, I hope? Because I am really starting to worry what was wrong with those grapes. And I definitely ain’t drinking that Kool-Aid your brother put out in the kitchen.”

  Apollo grinned. “Which of the brothers?”

  “The one with the curls and the shaggy goatee.”

  “Then I recommend you stay away from it. Unless you want to test out his own invention - Red Bull, Vodka and Kool-Aid. He claims it is the ultimate party drink.”

  “Won’t be much of a party if all of the guests dies.”

  “We’re saving that for Halloween.”

  Oliver laughed, the sound stirring old memories that were both happy and painful. Maybe it showed on his face, because Oliver abruptly stopped.

  “Are you alright? You look a bit pale.”

  At the corner of his vision, small sparks were flying, and he did feel a bit dizzy. 

  “Just a bit of a headache. It is fine, it will pass.”

  But he knew very well what it was, and it was not a migraine. He always got auras before a prophecy. But he also knew he could fake his way through a whole conversation of vertigo and blinking lights to hear that laughter again.

  “Do you get them often?” Oliver asked, and briefly, Apollo wondered if he knew. “The headaches?”

  “Oh. Yeah, uhm. Once in a while. I…” But then he felt as if his whole mind was being momentarily paused, similar to the party earlier. Once he came to, he shook his head. “Sorry, about that. I… I am just going to go get a painkiller. I’ll be right back!”

  There was a flash of worry and hurt in the dark eyes, but Apollo knew he would not be able to fake it much longer. Dionysus was still chatting with his guest on the patio, standing close and stealing glances. Not him, then. But he found Hermes in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of his brew and adding some nectar from a hip flask he had pulled out from the pockets of his jeans. 

  “Dude, try this. I think the nectar will give it the extra piff it needs.”

  “Hermy, I need you. Now.”

  He pulled his brother along and into his bedroom, closing the door behind them.

  “Pollo, you look awful.”

  “Told you not to call me that,” Apollo said, but he couldn’t really muster the strength to be mad. Instead he flopped down into his chair. His breathing was speeding up, in addition to his heart rate. 

  “Are you having another prophecy?”

  Apollo just nodded and closed his eyes. The white spots were filling his whole vision now, and they kept blinking even behind his eyelids. Through his foggy mind, he could feel Hermes’ hand on his forehead. 

  “You are burning up.”

  “Yourhandiscold.”

  “Try to get it out, man. It is just like being sick, only like, word vomit.”

  “Not sure I can.” It was so much more difficult without an oracle, and even though having someone with him helped, it wasn’t as good as making his thoughts work their way through the mind of a certified priestess. 

  “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

  The door to his room opened and closed, and through the walls, he could just barely hear Hermes scramble around his room. Soon, he was back. Apollo dared open one eye.

  Hermes was holding a bag with the embroidery of a hawk. From the pouch, he pulled out a handful of small rocks with symbols written on them, and threw the pebbles on the bed.

  “Here, bro.” He grabbed Apollo’s hand and pulled him out of the chair, then forced his hand down on top of the scattered rocks. 

  Suddenly, he could he a choir of voices in his head. The ichor in his veins reacted, stopping its flow in favour of turning to fire hot light. His pupils dilated as if he was in a pitch black room, and every nerve in his body had their sensitivity turned up to 100. Adrenaline filled him, making his muscles tense and his gut clench. His mouth moved on its own accord, and he listened to his voice as if it was coming from someone else.  

  _"He defies the high one's rule_

_and acts not as a guest._

_Here searching for a tool._

_The sun and moon have failed their test."_

  Then he felt his knees hit the floor and his vision went black.


	5. Three Gods and a Housewarming Party - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party is on, the guests are cute, the neighbour is not so cute, there is beer, and it is the perfect timing for Apollo to sprout a prophecy that might just ruin the fun.

  It was Hermes’ voice that brought him back. He was whispering an old hymn in Ancient Greek, his hand on Apollo’s forehead. It wasn’t cold anymore, but burning hot. Apollo opened his eyes, but his brain reacted with pain.

  “Here, drink this.”

  Apollo dared lift his head to drink from the hip flask of nectar that Hermes put to his lips. It helped instantly, like drinking hot chocolate after being outside in the snow. A warmth spread from his gut and outwards. Once he could feel his toes heat up, he sat up, and realized he was still on the ground by the foot of his bed.

  “How do you feel?”

  Apollo looked to his brother, and noticed that his wings were out. They had grown to about a foot long, but held down and backwards, like the ears of a worried dog.

  “Better. Much better. Thank you.” 

  “No problem, bro. Your temperature seems back to normal. What triggered it?”

  Apollo shook his head. “I was talking to Artemis’ friend, Oliver. And it just snuck up on me. What did I say?”

  Hermes recited the prophecy for him, but Apollo didn’t feel any more comfort. Prophecies were usually difficult to understand, even for him. They came from a place beyond his knowledge. 

  “Actually, Apollo.” Hermes stretched to pick up one of the pebbles on the bed. It had a symbol Apollo didn’t recognize. “I think I know what-”

  They were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Just like before, it rang three times. Then another three times. Apollo stood, still a bit light headed, but not as bad as before.

  “It’s probably our lovely old neighbor again. We better go answer it.” The doorbell kept ringing, and he winced. “I have a feeling she won’t go away.”

 

  Outside in the hallway were now two women - their new neighbor and a woman who looked very much like a younger version of her, with dark red hair and a stern expression.

  “What can I do for the two of you?” Apollo said, trying to sound diplomatic despite him being exhausted, and kind of wanting to incinerate anyone who gave him more to worry about.

  “Police,” the red-headed woman said, pulling out a batch from the inside pocket of her jacket. “Officer Freud. There is a disturbance?”

  Apollo did his very best to give her a winning smile. “Officer. I wouldn’t say disturbance. We are having a housewarming party, and we have notified everyone in the building.” Not to mention, he had thrown much wilder and louder parties than this. Especially if he were to compare them to the party as it was right now, because the music was turned down to a minimum, and there were absolutely no one talking inside the apartment.

  “I did not bless this,” their neighbor said. “Eleanor, I did not allow it.” Then she poked Apollo in the chest. She was almost as tall as him. “I would have been here a lot sooner to end this if Eleanor’s car hadn’t been out of gas!”

  “I  _ did  _ try to inform you about the party. I would of course have taken your feelings into consideration if you had opened the door.”

  The officer looked tired, he noticed. She sighed, the straightened her back again.

  “If Beatrice considers this a disturbance of the peace-”

  “Hey, excuse me! Sorry, I just need my big brother for a bit.” Hermes suddenly jumped out in front of Apollo, and pushed him towards the stairs. “Very sorry. Just a second, and you can yell at him some more.”

  Once they were a bit more excluded, Hermes whispered. “Let me handle it.”

  “What, you and the police?”

  “I am great at talking to officers! You of all gods should know that. Remember when I got one of your bastard kids out of custody back in the 90s?”

  “You have bastard kids too.”

  “Not the point. Listen, Officer Happy over there, she’s not actually on duty right now.”

  “What? How do you know?”   
  “I just do. The hag-”

  “Hermes!”

  “The  _ hag  _ probably called in a favour. A relative, I bet. This is low-key illegal. So let me smooth talk the redhead. You go back to the party and try to sniff out the guest that shouldn’t be here.”

  Apollo frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Your prophecy,” Hermes sighed. “ _ Acts not as a guest. Here searching for a tool. The sun and moon have failed their test.  _ Sounds to me like we have a rotten apple in our bunch. Talk to Artemis and Dio, but no one else.”

  He thought for a moment, then said “Okay. Okay, I trust you. Good luck.” They both made sure their backs were turned to the two women, who were glaring at them, then did their secret handshake.

  “Ladies, I will let my brother here explain everything to you. Call me if you need me!” It was obvious that the woman, Beatrice, was about to say something, but Apollo just hurried back inside and closed the door behind him.

  He took a deep breath to settle himself, then walked into the living room.

  All eyes were on him.

  He scowled.

  “You totally knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?” he asked the room in general, but the residents of the building specifically. The college girls from across the hall coughed.

  “Yeah. We did.” Then they burst out laughing.

  “What the actual fu-”

  “Consider it a ritual,” a man from downstairs said. “It has happened to all of us. Why do you think the Johnsons and Smiths go to that beach house every weekend?”

  “Yeah,” one of the college girls said. “It’s just, we all take turns, you know. There are no kids here. The old folks are nice.” She pointed to an elderly man in a wheelchair by the patio doors. He waved. 

  “Party at my place for New Years 2003?” he croaked, and made peace-signs. A woman from the first floor patted his shoulder.

  “Eleanor is okay, don’t give her a hard time,” the other college girl said. “She keeps showing up later and later, making excuses. She’s Mrs. Freud’s niece, she’s just doing it to be nice to her. It is only a matter of time until she gives up all together.”

  Apollo rubbed his temples. “I think I need a drink.”

  Thalia grinned. “Does this mean the party is back on?” Her hand was already on the volume button of the surround system. 

  Everyone looked to him. He sighed. “Rock out.”

  As the volume was cranked back up again, he walked into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of Hermes’ special brew from a big punch bowl. It tasted… Not great. 

  He was just about to search for a bottle of nectar, because maybe, just maybe, that would help, when a voice almost made him lose his cup. 

  “Rough night, huh?”

  Oliver was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and Apollo was suddenly very aware that they were alone. 

  “A bit, yeah.”

  “How’s your head? Are you sure you should be drinking?” He wrinkled his nose. “And especially  _ that _ .” 

  “Honestly, probably not. But my head is fine now, thanks.” It came out a bit harsher than expected. He felt like giving himself a proper bitch slap. “Sorry, just tired. This place is getting rather crammed. Probably the stale air.”

  Oliver’s dark eyes softened. Somehow, he had moved closer without Apollo paying attention. Close enough now for Apollo to take notice of how white his teeth were in contrast to his dark skin. He had really nice lips.

  “I am thinking,” Oliver said in a whisper, “That maybe  _ you  _ are thinking  _ too much  _ right now? Join the party? Or get some sleep?”

  “Sleep?”

  “Mhm.”

  His eyes really were dark purple. They had small specks of blue and violet that sent a shiver down Apollo’s spine, so similar to those who had caused that very same effect 4000 years ago. But his lashes had been thicker, his hair longer, his lips not as full, but still oh so nice.

  The memory pulled him out of his train of thought. He was supposed to look for a guest. A guest that didn’t quite fit in. Someone who would be testing him and Artemis. 

  Apollo took a step back, and saw how Oliver’s face fell.

  “Excuse me. I… I need to go see my sister. To talk to her about this situation we have going on.” He grinned, and hoped it reached his eyes to make it more believable. “You understand, right?”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  He made sure not to look back as he hurried back into the living room. There were so many people dancing and chatting that even he, as one of the tallest in the room, had problems searching the crowd. Eventually he found her on the patio. Naturally, she would prefer to be outside in the fresh night air than inside with the flirting people.

  Even on the patio, there were a lot of people, but when he announced that “There are more bags of cheetos in the kitchen! And Twizzlers hidden away in one of the drawers,” they cheered and went inside to search for free food.

  Artemis had a knowing smile that managed to make him a bit annoyed. She always gave the impression that she knew something he did not.

  “Are you and Oliver getting along?”

  “I am not sure, actually.” 

  Her smile fell. “What? But he-”

  “Where did you two meet?” 

  She scowled. “At the shooting range. Haven’t you talked to him at all?”

  “I had a prophecy.”

  “What?” She put away her glass of white wine, and he recited it for her. Her eyes, the same blue he knew matched his, were now shining with a silvery fury. 

  “Test  _ us _ ? Who dares test us?”

  “A guest, obviously.”

  “There are loads of guests here! How you can even fit them all is beyond me.”

  “Actually, that is beyond me too. I am starting to think Hermes pulled some pocket magic. But that is not the point.” He chugged the rest of his rather terrible drink and put the cup aside. “You, me, Hermes and Dio need to figure out what is going on, who the guest is, what tool he is looking for, and what he plan to do with it. And I am guessing Oliver.”

  Artemis frowned, and the shine that had danced across her eyes ignited her irises, making them shine with a silvery light. “I do not,” she growled.

  “Why?”

  “Because Dionysus left ten minutes ago. With Ash.”

 

Dionysus POV

  Ash had allowed him to take a picture of the two of them to send to Ariadne. Now, he didn’t really say this was his  _ wife _ he was sending it to. It tended to cause more questions than needed. Before you knew it, you were discussing the technicalities of your very personal and private open relationship and whether swingers clubs were a good idea or not.

  He hated it when that happened.

  But Ash had just laughed when Dionysus asked if it was okay that he sent a picture of them to a friend. 

  “Whatever floats your boat.”

  And the picture was really nice too. The two of them on the patio, the street lights in the background out of focus, Ash’s smile as smooth and intoxicating as earlier. 

  Even Ariadne approved, sending him a set of emojis, followed by a picture of herself standing with a weaved basket in her arms. He had to admit he got a tiny bit heartsick.

  “So,” Ash handed him a beer, one of the Scandinavian cans from the store. “No need to scream? Did it suit your taste?” 

  It took Dionysus a full three seconds to understand what he was - and wasn’t - talking about. Then he laughed and grabbed the can Ash was holding out for him. 

  “No, no need to let the world know of your shortcomings, because there aren’t any. At least not yet.” He sipped the beer for dramatic effect, and in the corner of his eyes, he saw Ash’s brows rise. “You know your beer, that’s for sure.”

  Ash laughed - a deep, smooth sound. If some people laughter was like a spring creek, light and joyful, his was more of a lake. A deep and dark lake.

  Wow, he wasn’t usually this poetic when drinking. That was more Apollo’s thing. This was turning sappy.

  Ash downed his half-empty can of beer in one sip, and Dionysus felt like he couldn’t really be any worse, now could he. He removed his amethyst necklace, which had kept him magically sober up until now, and put it in his pocket. From there, its effect was milder, helping him keep his sanity in check whilst still feeling steadily more intoxicated. The effect of the alcohol he had drunk earlier that night started sieving into his body a little by a little. He finished his own can.

  “I thought downing beer was for the cheap stuff?” Ash joked, as if he had not done the very same thing himself. Dionysus shrugged.

  “I’ll go get us some more, then,” Ash said and went back inside yet again, only to emerge with two more cans.

  That was when the doorbell rang again. 

  When the rest of the party hushed each other and listened to the conversation outside the apartment, Ash simply closed the patio door so they could enjoy some privacy. 

  “Here, Dio,” he handed him an opened can, and Dionysus started sipping it.

  Ash moved to lean against the railings next to him, even closer than earlier. He smelled good, Dionysus noticed. Musky, like earth and honey, and a good cologne.

  If he wanted to, he could just turn his head to look directly at Ash, and they would be close enough to kiss.

  Would that be rushed? A bit too early in the evening? He was starting to feel rather dizzy, and through his foggy mind, he could not really recall how late it actually was.

  Just as he had decided to wait until the other man made a move, Ash put his hand to Dionysus’ jaw to make him look at him. The icy blue eyes searched Dionysus’ face, as if searching for something.

  Well,  _ fuck it _ .

  Dionysus kissed him. 

  He didn’t mean for it to heat up that quickly, but soon he found himself with his free hand clutching Ash’s shirt, and Ash’s hand in his hair. Thank gods for the commotion outside in the hallway, because no one would be paying them any attention right now, and he could pretend they were alone for a moment. 

  Something slid into his mouth, and at first he thought they had truly taken things a bit far in kind-of-public. Then he noticed that this was hard, small, and ice cold. Whatever it was, it slid down his throat.

  The muscles of his chest and back spasmed, and he had to break up the kiss to cough.

  Oh, this was not attractive at all, was it?

  “I am sorry, so sorry, Dio. I took a mint when I popped inside. Here, drink some, get it down.”

  Dionysus could feel Ash grab the hand he was holding his beer in to lead it to his mouth, and he swallowed greedily. It was hard, forcing his throat to swallow when all it wanted to do was to cough, but he managed. The spasms stopped shaking his body, and he could breathe more easily. From inside came once again the sound of music, and people were reappearing on the patio. Still, they all seemed blurry to him. His knees were shaking.

  “I… I am not feeling very well,” he said, but it came out as a hoarse whisper.

  A few people gathered around him.

  “Dio, are you okay?” He recognized Artemis’ voice, and shook his head. The movement made everything swim around him. 

  “He chugged down a couple of beers, maybe it was too much too fast?” Ash said. “And he had some wine earlier, and you know what they say about mixing wine and beer. I’ll get him to bed.”

  Dionysus leaned against Ash, who grabbed his arm to place it around his own shoulders. 

  “Come on. Time to lay down.”

  The crowd was a homogenous and thick liquid for them to fight their way through. Or something like that. He wasn’t really sure of anything right now. There was Hermes, his back turned against them. Then he felt like he was moving downwards. It made him queasy.

  “Where are we going,” he mumbled. He couldn’t feel his own feet.

  “Just to get some fresh air. Nothing to worry about. Come along, now.” 

  His legs were moving, walking, and he knew, but he wasn’t sure how he was doing it. This was not like being drunk, not at all. When he was drunk, his body sometimes could feel heavy and sleepy, yes, especially once he had  _ stopped  _ drinking. But even then his mind would feel light, unburdened. 

  This, this was more like being crazy. Like wandering through countries, not truly knowing who he was. Eating his own grapes or whatever animal he could get his hands on for food. Handing out punishments without a second thought. Trapped not by chains, but by his own mind, until Cybele had managed to force her way through the mist and fog and drag him back out of it. Twice born, once from the mother and once from the father, they said, but he often through of that experience as a third birth, from himself.

  And he hated being back in there. 

  He fell against hard concrete, and the sound echoed around him. The air smelled bad, like something rotting.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Dionysus shook his head. That was a mistake. It made him want to vomit. 

  Someone - Ash, he remembered - pushed and shoved him into a sitting position. Then his hands were in his pockets. 

  “Ah, this explains it. The amethyst? Yes. No wonder it took so long. And no wonder it hit so hard once you took it off. I should have known. Stupid me.”

  “What?”

  There was a laughter, but he didn’t think it sounded like deep waters anymore. It sounded more like himself, back then, when he was young and out of his mind.

  “And I had you swallow that rune stone with Isa on it! Sure, if you had still had this around your neck, it would have worked more slowly on you. But you had just taken it off, and I didn’t know. Oh boy, if you were to survive the night, I would expect you to feel pretty shitty in the morning.”

  Dionysus made a sound, which was supposed to be something like  _ “What are you talking about? Who are you? What are you doing to me?”  _ but it came out more like a messy grumble.

  “I could only sedate three of you, you see. I do not have enough power in this form for more. Now, the hard part was writing the runes on the underside of Sól and Máni’s beers, so that they would not be able to see me for the rest of the night. And the magic would have worn out soon. I had to be quick, and you were not responding to the runes on your own cans.”

  Something sharp was pushed against his jawline, and though he could not feel the pain, he could still feel his flesh split open and the warm ichor run down his throat.

  “I need a god. The  _ power  _ of a god. I can do a lot in this avatar, fool many. Even perform simple magic. But if I want to be a god again, I need to get myself free from the cains made by my son’s intestines. And no human vessel can do that for me, not even my own wife! Only a god, or a mortal host temporarily made a god, can rip those bands apart. Would you know, one of the ways to do that, is to have the mortal consume the life force of a god. The stronger the god, the better it works. And the less left of the god, the more is transferred to the vessel. So, dearest, I might not be able to kill you, but I sure can weaken you enough that you might as well be dead.”

  Maybe some of the poison came flowing out of him with the ichor, because his vision cleared. 

  The man, who was basically straddling his limp body, was Ash, sure as day. But his soft and dark look was gone. His blue eyes were filled with a desire Dionysus recognized oh so well. 

  Desire created by madness.

  Ash leaned over him, too close for Dionysus to be able to focus, and he could feel a warm tongue run along the wound on his jaw. 

  Ash made a satisfied groan, and grabbed Dionysus’ hair to pull his head further back.

  He didn’t smell nice anymore. The earth and honey were replaced by sweat and salt and rooting meat. The world was floating, as if he was on a ship. In the back of his mind, he thought he could hear the laughter of men. He tried to reach out with his powers. 

_ Ivy. Grapes. Grow.  _

  But there was nothing. His body was frozen and cold, and his ichor and the pressure of the other man were too warm and hot. 

  “This will take too long,” Ash muttered, and Dionysus could feel a blade, even this hot against his icy skin, pressed against his jugular. “Better make this quick and messy. You’ve seen how fast I can down a beer. Want to see me chug a god?”

  “Actually, I think we are good.”

  Ash moved back, and Dionysus could see past him to the end of the alley. 

  It was not the same brothers and sister whom he had left at the party.

  This was them as he remembered them from once upon a time. 

  Apollo - his wreath of laurels almost black in contrast to his shining skin and glowing eyes. A white chiton floated in a non-existing wind. His golden bow to the ready, aimed at his target. To his right, Artemis - her own silvery bow and glowing eyes directed at Ash. She wore hunting boots and a chiton with a short skirt. And to Apollo’s left, Hermes - dark and hidden in a traveler’s cloak. He had a broad brimmed hat on his head, and for once, he did not hide any of his wings. They poked out of holes in the hat, and the wings on his sandals worked overtime to keep him ten inches above the ground. In his hand, he held his caduceus, and the snakes hissed. 

  “I recommend you step off our brother,” Apollo said, his voice deep and demanding. “I am not sure if you can feel the pain of this vessel from the cage of your cave, but I am about to find out,  _ Loki _ .”

  “Would you truly rip this human host to pieces for your petty revenge?” Ash said, but his voice shook.

  Apollo sniffed the air. “That vessel is old, Loki. It is not truly alive, even. You have overextended it.”

  “Should have gotten an extended warranty,” Hermes joked. 

  “Enough talk,” Artemis said. She released her arrow, and it pierced itself into Ash’s shoulder. He let out a surprised and hurt grunt. “Would you know. He does feel pain. And no earthquakes.”

  Apollo turned and put his hand to his mouth, calling out. “Sól, Máni. Do you want your prisoner?”

  The three gods moved to make way for two more, who stepped forward from the street. Much like Apollo and Artemis, they glowed in gold and silver, but Dionysus thought their aura was not as graceful or regal as that of his siblings. It was a primorial and animalistic power. They moved like half men, half animals, their shoulders and backs bent forward. There were a snarl over their lips, like that of a growling wolves. The glow of their eyes was burning red and icy white. 

  Ash stood up and snapped the end of the arrow off, leaving just a small stump.

  “I will not be killed, you know that. Not until Ragnarok.”

  “In that case,” Sól growled.

  “We’ll have all of the time in the world to rip you apart,” Máni continued.

  They threw themselves at the man, who screamed in pain, and dragged him out of the alley and away. 

  Dionysus felt as if he could finally breathe properly, after having his head held underwater. He gasped for air, and some of the fog in his head drifted off. The muscles in his body were shaking from cold and adrenaline.

  Hermes was suddenly there, wrapping his cloak around him and shushing him. He had not even been aware he was crying.

  “We’re here now. We’ve got you.” 

  “The amethyst,” Apollo said, and through his watery vision, he could make out the golden form reach out and put his necklace back around his neck. 

  The effect was instant. Whatever had dimmed down his powers and slugged down his body disappeared. The grapes around his head grew with twice the speed, and he could feel and hear the concrete around him crack as ivy and grape vines forced their way through. A little too late, but they did not lack in enthusiasm. 

  Now that he could move, he curled up against Hermes’ chest and let the rest of it out. He didn’t care if he looked childish or weak, because that was exactly what he felt like. Like he was small and vulnerable, and Hermes was once again carrying him somewhere safe. But no place had ever been as safe as in the warmth inside his older brother’s cloak. 

  Hermes was still whispering words of comfort in his ear, and he could feel Apollo’s warm hands on his back, sunshine drifting into him and filling him up. He could even feel Artemis’ presence, cold and calculating, keeping guard and listening for anything that might show up to harm him again. 

  Soon, there was no energy or any tears left, and his breathing was slowly settling back into a much calmer pace. His body felt warm once more, and he could make out the stories Hermes was telling him. Old stories that he had first heard when he was sleeping in Hermes’ hat by a bonfire. 

  “I want to go home,” he muttered.

  “To Olympus?” Apollo asked.

  He shook his head. “To the apartment.”

  There was a smile in his voice when Apollo said “Okay, then. To the apartment it is.”

 

They had climbed in through the fire escape to Hermes’ room, just to make sure they did not get noticed by anyone. Dionysus’ door was right next to his, and they had snuck in silently. Now, he was sipping nectar from Hermes’ hip bottle, and they were all gathered on his bed, back in their modern clothes. Artemis, practical as always, had found him some ambrosia, which she was forcing him to eat between sips.

  “What happened,” he asked, dazed and tired, but set on getting everything straight. Apollo cleared his throat.

  “I had a prophecy. Just before the police officer showed up.  _ He defies the high one's rule  and acts not as a guest. Here searching for a tool. The sun and moon have failed their test _ .”

  “It was actually Hermes who deciphered it fully,” Artemis said. She threw an arm around her brother, who shrugged. His wings were still out, and they peaked up from the praise.

  “The high one, that is Odin,” he explained. “ He set out these rules, see,  _ Hávamál _ . Now, I ain’t much for rules and laws, but most of those are really good. It is all about how to be a decent human being. And that includes rules of hospitality. So a Norse deity, harming a welcoming host, that is not very gentleman-like, you know. And from there on, I knew the sun and moon, that was Sól and Máni.”

  “And that was how we found the binding rune inscriptions on the underside of their beer cans,” Apollo continued. “They enforced a magic that made it impossible for the two to see Loki. Honestly, they thought you were pretty drunk, talking to yourself outside all evening. But of course, they think all us Greek gods and goddesses are pretty weird. Cultural differences.”

  “How do you know so much about this anyway,” Dionysus asked Hermes. “These two I understand, they have known Sól and Máni since forever.”

  “Hey, me and Odin, we go way back!” Hermes pulled a pouch out of the pocket of his hoodie. “He was the one who gave me my rune set. I use it for minor divination. It makes it way easier to make prophecies with pebbles, I am just saying.” He nudged Apollo. “And his ravens, Huginn and Muninn, they are BFFs with my snakes. They keep stopping by to share gossip.”

  Dionysus hummed, letting it all sink in. Honestly, he felt so worn out, he almost dropped the flask. Of course, Hermes was there to to take it from him. Artemis squeezed Dionysus’ hand.

  “You should sleep, Dio. We’ll tell people to go home.”

  “No don’t,” he mumled. “The noise, it’s comforting.” And it was. To him, the sound of a party had the effect he supposed music had to Apollo, or the sound of the forest was to Artemis. 

  The three looked at each other, then shrugged.

  “Okay, then. But you are sleeping. Now,” his sister demanded. She pushed him gently to encourage him to lay down, and pulled his covers up all the way to his wreath. 

  “Sleep, brother,” Apollo said, and his voice carried on a melody that had Dionysus’ eyelids go heavy. Through his sleepiness, he could hear the door to the hallway open and feet going out, but it didn’t close immediately. Instead, he felt another blanket being added to his covers. It smelled vaguely of smoke, fresh air, and Red Bull. 

  “Come get me if you can’t sleep. Or send me a text? I am right next door, you know. I am not doing anything more important than you.”

  Dionysus smiled and hummed in agreement. As the door closed, he drifted off to sleep. 

 

Dionysus was only mildly surprised that he was not the last one out of bed the next morning. Parties usually threw everyone off their rhythm. Except, of course, Apollo, who had coffee and French toast ready. 

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked as he put a plate out for him.

  Dionysus shrugged. “I dreamt, but I can’t remember what anymore.”

  “Your wound? Your head.”

  “All healed up. The amethyst, it takes the worst off the hangover.”

  Apollo set out a mug of coffee with loads of milk next to his toast. “There hasn’t been any earthquakes, so no matter what Sól and Máni did to Loki, it didn’t hurt any humans at least.”

  “Mhm.” Dionysus felt a need to change the topic. He didn’t much care what had happened to the Norse god. 

  “So, I definitely did not get anyone to bed last night, considering Ariadne couldn’t come and I ended up roofied. What about you?”

  Apollo sat down and sipped his coffee with a shrug, but Dionysus recognized a weak smile in the corner of his mouth.

  “No action, no,” Apollo said, matter-of-factly.

  “What about buff, dark and handsome? The one Artemis brought with her.”

  The smile widened. “Yeah. That… That was  _ something _ , but I am not sure what yet.”

  “More parties, then?”

  “I guess we will have to.”

  From down the hall, they could hear the door to Hermes’ room open, followed by voices talking pleasantly.

  “A  _ girl _ ?” Dionysus gasped, and Apollo grinned. The two jumped out of their chairs to peak out into the hall.

  There, Hermes was talking to the red-headed police officer from last night. 

  “And you are sure I can’t offer you breakfast?”

  “I really do need to go. But… Next time?”

  Hermes was grinning, walking sideways to keep his eyes on her as they walked down the hall.

  “Next time? Yeah! How about I treat you to a cup of coffee? I know a place with proper Turkish stuff.”

  Eleanor noticed the two men in the doorway, but she didn’t seem the least faced. 

  “Hey, boys,” she said, and grabbed her jacket from the hanger.

_ “Hey,” _ the two said in unison, waving their fingers.

  She got her shoes on, fixed her hair in the hallway mirror, then started padding the pockets of her jeans and jacket.

  “Oh, I think perhaps I forgot-”

  “The handcuffs?” Hermes pulled them out of the pocket of his hoodie, which surely were too small for him to have been able to hide them that well? “I did consider keeping them as blackmail to make sure you came back but…”

  With a huff, she snagged the handcuffs out of his hands, but she was smiling ever so slightly. “Coffee tomorrow sounds nice. I have lunch at one.”

  “It’s a date then!”

  The moment Eleanor was out the door, Hermes’ wings sprouted from underneath his hair, growing straight into full length. He fistpumped. “Yes!”

 “What were you saying last night,” Dionysus teased. “You weren’t going to do anything more important than me. Looks to us like you were doing someone quite important.”

  “Oh shut it, and give me some coffee.”

  Apollo gasped and put his hand to his forehead like he was going to swoon. “ _ Before _ your morning jog?”

  “I’ve already worked out, thank you very much.” Hermes winked and he walked between them into the kitchen. There, he found his seat and sighed. 

  “Now, Pollo, give me some us-damned coffee and toast.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woha, these two chapter took me about 14 hours to write. Time well spent, I must say.
> 
> Isa is the rune of stagnation, of standing still.
> 
> Apollo taught Hermes how to do divination with pebbles, and I thought that was not too different from divination with runes. Hermes and Odin actually have many similarities.


	6. Filler chapter - Ragnarok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short, non-essential scribble, since Sól and Máni were featured in the last chapter. Nothing to do with the main plot, just something for practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just for the joy of writing, and doesn't really have anything to do with the main story, except to teach you a bit more about Norse mythology. Sól is destined to die at Ragnarok. She and the sun are swallowed, but whether it is by Fenrir or Skoll, we are not fully sure. Sól is married to Glen, and you are free to assume her relationship to Dagr anyway you'd like, whether romantic or platonic.

 

Sól had seen it coming for a long time. She’d known. The sun was no longer bright, but dark, and its light black. It lay in the wagon behind her. Once, she would have felt its warmth against her back, but now it was as cold as ice. 

  She was prepared and unafraid, but even so, her hands were shaking.

  Skoll was closer now than he had ever been before. Close enough that she could hear him panting. 

  “Arvaker! Alsvin!” she called. “One last run, girls, come on!” 

  Her horses had pulled this wagon for ten-thousands of years, but even they were tired, for the first time ever. The long winter, the lack of sunlight. It had taken its toll.

  And soon it would take her too.

  Arvaker tripped in her own legs, and the wagon lost its speed. It was enough for the wolf to gain favour in the race.

  He threw himself at her, the fangs deep into the flesh of her shoulder. Sól screamed as the force shook the whole wagon, and they fell.

  Fell to the earth.

  They landed in the mountains, which were covered in a thick layer of snow. She had lost count during the three years of winter, but she felt certain that it should have been summer. It should have been summer, and she and Dagr should have kept each other company. They should have spent their long hours of daylight together, riding over the sky. Him, the giant prince and manifestation of the day, on his horse, and she, the goddess of the sun, in her wagon. Their horses should have raced. Skinfakse would have tried to show off to Arvaker and Alsvin. They would have yelled insults to Skoll, who was always too far behind.

  Together, they would have found the strength to keep the midnight sun of the north on its course. 

  But she had lost him, and she knew she would never see him again.

  The wolf had fallen too, but it was getting up. Its eyes glowed red and bright against its white fur. It opened its mouth-

  “Halt, son.” 

  Sól turned, and saw a newcomer. Up the mountain ran a wolf, much larger than Skoll. It had blood around its maw and down its throat.

  “Fenrir,” she groaned, her voice weak. No, she would not die like this, bleeding out in the white snow. She crawled towards her wagon, and used it to help herself up.

  The horses lay still, but she could see their sides move with every breath. She sent a silent thank you to the Norns, the goddesses of faith and destiny.

  “My son has done well,” Fenrir said. His voice was smooth and sweet. Of course, it was. He was a son of Loki, after all.  “He has hunted you and the sun over the sky for an eternity. Finally, he can enjoy his prey.”

  “He might eat me whole,” she said, and glared at the now dooling wolf. “But he won’t ever end my reign.”

  The thought made her proud, and she stood up straight, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. 

  “I gave birth to a daughter! She will ride this wagon! She will be pulling the sun as it rises over the new earth after Ragnarok. Nothing is eternal, not even the despair you will bring upon us.”

  “Perhaps,” Fenrir said, unfaced. “But I care not much for what lies behind the great battle. I will swallow the sun, and Skoll will swallow you. Then we will join the war.”

  “And in the battle, you will meet your faith.” 

  Fenrir flashed his teeth, but she pulled a small throwing axe out of her wagon, and hurled it towards him. It hit him in his face, right under his ear, and he howled in rage.

  “At least now, you won’t be as much of a threat,” she said. “Perhaps this is what tips the scales and helps Vidar rip you apart.” Then her knees buckled, and she fell on all fours. 

  Skoll curled together at the sight of his father’s pain, but Fenrir used his hind leg to scratch the axe out. The wound was bleeding badly, but she knew it would not be enough.

  He walked towards her, growling in pain and anger. “I will swallow your sun first, so you may watch the very thing you have protected for so long be devoured. Then, Skoll may have his prey.”

  He threw himself towards her precious cargo, his mouth so wide it seemed impossible. Soon, the sun was gone, and whatever light it had gifted the earth disappeared. They were left with the faint glow of the stars. Even the moon, she noticed, had left its place. She wished she could have moured her fallen brother, but she refused to cry as her last act in life. Instead, she chose to find hope in knowing her daughter would claim her faith and carry on her legacy.

  And, after all, there were other deities out there to protect the rest of the world. They would teach the girl. She had no doubts in that.

  “Now, Skoll,” Fenrir said with a satisfied hum, “You may finish the goddess.”


	7. Three Gods and a Gym Membership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a week and a half, Apollo was beginning to feel like a slob. It did not help that Hermes kept to his strict routine of morning runs. Nothing makes you feel more lazy than seeing other people work out. Contrary to popular belief, Apollo did not look this good by pointing at himself and using his godly powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know how to write trauma, and I am mostly doing this to keep up my writing. Do not hate on me for not being a psycologist.

  After a week and a half, Apollo was beginning to feel like a slob. It did not help that Hermes kept to his strict routine of morning runs. Nothing makes you feel more lazy than seeing other people work out. Contrary to popular belief, Apollo did  _ not _ look this good by pointing at himself and using his godly powers. It took some work! Well, except for the tan. That was a side effect of riding the sun chariot. Good thing he couldn’t get skin cancer. 

   Usually, he would train back on Olympus. Despite his many flaws, Ares was a great workout partner. Nothing could make him lift as heavy as having a war god yell at him for no apparent reason. He had made arrangements with Artemis to hit a local archery range, but that wouldn’t be enough to keep fit. 

  Dionysus felt the same, and it was him who had suggested it at breakfast- that they should get a gym membership. Unlike Apollo, he was familiar with modern mortal gyms. Apparently, there were no good yoga instructors on Olympus, even if Iris was taking some courses.

  Hermes had just laughed. He usually went running or hiking in whatever part of the world he was currently reciting in, and claimed he had once done a marathon in Antarctica. According to him, gym memberships were  _ “- the greatest scam of the modern world!”  _

  When asked whether he thought it was a bad idea for Apollo and Dionysus to join a gym, he had said they had completely misunderstood him. Actually, he had recommended them a local gym just a fifteen minutes walk away. 

  As it turned out, he had stocks in the company. 

  “Of course I am in on the scam! What do you think fills up the Olympus Stock Fund?”

  And that was how Apollo and Dionysus found themselves in the reception of a gym, golden credit cards ready, and bags over their shoulders.

  Apollo didn’t mind letting Dionysus take the lead on this one. Not that he was unfamiliar with mortal gymnasiums. It was just that he was pretty sure they had changed a whole lot during the past few thousand years. 

  Dionysus leaned over the counter to watch the receptionist add their  _ oh so very real  _ information into her system. It always made Apollo want to laugh when people needed his date of birth. He had a feeling they would not take him seriously if he told them the truth. Instead he changed it every year, keeping him 25 forever. Unless some day he decided to age up a bit again, like he had done before. Once, people would have considered him an adult at 16. Cultures changed, and so he changed with them.

  Both of them cringed when she wrote their made-up last names into the computer. They had known it was a terrible idea to let Hermes make them fake IDs. Apollo just hoped he would never have to show it to someone who actually did speak Greek.

  Charmingly, Dionysus helped the receptionist spell out their names, and Apollo noticed that her cheeks were a bit more red than they had been when they entered. His brother, on the other hand, seemed nervous. Not that anyone else would have taken notice, not knowing what to look for.

  Dionysus had removed all grapes from his hair, and now it was only decorated with lush young leaves. But the leaves were ever so slowly changing colour, from a fresh bright green to a dark bluish green, like leaves in summer.

  Once all the paperwork was in order, they found their way to the locker room to change. Apollo pulled an unfamiliar tank top out of his bag and groaned.

  "Hermes is having a lot of fun about this, huh?"

  Dionysus glanced at the top and snorted.

  "Sun's out - Guns out?" 

  As he pulled it on, Apollo realized it even had arrows on both sides to point out his biceps. Someone was not getting pancakes tomorrow morning.

  As long as they were still alone, he decided to ask a question that had been burning since last weekend.

  "Have you talked to Ariadne? You know, about Loki?"

  "No. Why?" 

  His voice was steady and he didn't stop tying up his hair in a messy bun, but Apollo noticed how a couple of the leaves at the back of his head ever so slowly turned more dull in colour.

  "You can talk to us, you know?" 

  "There is a yoga class in ten minutes," Dionysus said, as if he hadn't heard him. "Meet you back at the apartment unless I see you here?" Then he closed his locker, and walked out without waiting for an answer.

 

Treadmills were new to him. Why didn’t they just make tracks around the gym? It took him embarrassing long to figure out the settings, but it didn’t seem like anyone were paying him any attention anyway. Maybe there were a regular flow of new hopeless people in here?

  There was a touch screen where he could choose to see a movie to pretend he was running someplace else, such as famous national parks or along shorelines. He had a feeling this might have been Hermes’ invention - a literal running gag. It did feel nice, though, to look at the changing scenery through the eyes of a GoPro.

  You’d think weights were the same everywhere. No. Annoyingly enough. What was the thing with the thousands of machines? For a minute, he glared at one particularly complicated one, which reminded him of a few torture devices he had seen back during the Inquisition. Instead of embarrassing himself further, he found his way to the good old fashioned Olympic bars. He started out with squats and deadlift, because as Ares had told him thousands of times, you should always begin with the large muscle groups. 

  Usually, he would move on to bench press. Instead, he stood by the free bench, and felt even more flushed. He couldn’t really do heavy lifts without a partner to secure him. It would be the perfect ending to this workout if he got trapped under a barbell. 

  “Need some help?”

  The familiarity of the voice had him spin around. His heart raced for a second, then slowed down when he saw who it  _ actually  _ was, then sped up again. He was pretty sure that wasn’t healthy.

  Oliver was smiling, watching him with obvious amusement. Apollo’s eyes fell to the embroidered logo on his chest.

  “You… Work here?”

  Oliver nodded. “I am a PT.” Then he froze. “That… That is a  _ really pretty  _ tattoo. I… I didn’t see that at your party.”

  Apollo pushed his right shoulder forth so he could glance down at his sleeve. From his elbow, flowers of ink grew their way up his arm and stretched over to his chest, neck and shoulder blade. There were sunflowers, larkspurs, laurels and hyacinths, etched into his skin in black and gold.

  Oliver’s eyes rested on the flowers, and for once, Apollo felt embarrassed about the tattoo. It was as if he had the names of his exes written in hears, for everyone to see. And come to think of it - it wasn't far off.

  “How did you get the gold to look so metallic?”

_ Magic. _

  “I visited a very good tattoo artist.”

  There was a playful little smirk in the corner of Oliver’s mouth, Apollo noticed. He was pretty sure that wasn’t healthy for his hearth either.

  “Come to think of it. We didn’t get much of a chance to talk last time. I hardly know anything about you.”

_ Please do not ask any complicated questions, I am a terrible liar. _

  “Shoot.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

_   I inherited the sun chariot after Helios retired - he is currently in Florida playing croquet - and I am actually driving it  _ **_as we speak_ ** _ in a half substantial avatar form, blasting AC/DC from my new speakers. _

  "I work from home… in the music business!"

  "And your brothers?"

_ Dionysus is the god of wine and festivities, Hermes likes stealing things. _

__ “Home offices too. Dio does… party planning! Hermes does a lot of work on the stock market.”

  “Like I said the other day, you all have very interesting names. How come you are named after the Greek gods?”

_ Because we  _ **_are_ ** _ the original Greek gods. _

  “Our parents had a terrible sense of humor.”

  "You are all very close in age. And you do not look much like each other."

_ Our dad can't keep it in his pants for very long. There are even more of us out there. _

  "Our dad can't keep it in his pants for long. There are even more of us out there."

  Oliver snorted, clearly trying not to laugh.

  "Sorry, I just…"

  "It's okay," Apollo reassured. "We are used to it."

  Once Oliver had his grin under control, he cleared his throat.

  “So… My two o’clock called in and said she couldn’t make it. If you want to, I can show you how the equipment works? I noticed you went straight for the old and familiar stuff.”

  Apollo rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah?”

  “For free this time. Between friends, you know? I’ll just tell my boss it was a test run for a potential client.”

  Working out with a cute guy? He sure didn’t mind that. He  _ never _ minded that.

  “Alright. And if I like your coaching?”

  Oliver winked. “I’ll give you my card once we are done?”

 

  “How was the class?” Apollo asked as he entered the kitchen. Dionysus was chopping up vegetables for a stew. He tended to make stews - always vegetarian - because it allowed him to cook with wine or beer. While drinking from the same bottle, of course.

  “Good.” He sighed and put the knife down. “Actually, it was  _ really  _ good. It was nice to occupy my mind for a while.”

  “You should call up Ariadne.”

  “I will, soon.” Then he took the knife back up and squared his shoulders, and Apollo knew this part of the conversation was over. For now, he told himself.

  “How was your workout? Was the rest of gym to your taste?”

  “Yeah, it was. As a matter of fact…” Out of the pockets of his jeans, he pulled a blue card with silvery writing. “I am going back.”

  “I would hope so,” Dionysus snorted. “We’ve already paid up front for the next two months, and Hermes would never stop teasing us if we didn’t used our membership.” Then he noticed the card, as Apollo put it on their fridge. “A PT?”

  “Mhm. Just once a week until I get a hang on the new techniques. After all,” he winked, “It wouldn’t be professional of me to flirt with my personal trainer, would it?”

  Dionysus slapped him on the back of the head, grinning. “You dog.” Then he leaned in and read the card. “Oliver Blumenthal. Nice ring to it.”

  “He is nice too.”

  “Are you planning on having more bastard kids?”

  Apollo returned the slap. 


	8. Character sheet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A list of characters currently featured in Thee Gods and a New Apartment

A list of characters that has been introduced so far and will be introduced in the next few chapters:

 

Apollo

God of… oh boy. He just has too many hobbies. To quote Wikipedia: “Apollo has been variously recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the sun and light, poetry,  _ and more _ .” Not to mention the god of Eurovision. Or as Hermes would say “The god of looking hot while playing the guitar.” Which, of course, would earn him a slap to the back of the head. 

Apollo has for various reasons (*cough cough* heartbreak) been feeling a bit blue lately, and not even blues has helped. What did help was to spend less time on Olympus and more time amongst mortals. Life on earth is just so… exciting! But of course it would be more exciting if he managed to get his main bros in on the idea.

Fake ID: Apollo Ήλιος Χάρη / Ílios Chári

 

Hermes

God of travels, thieves and trade, and messenger of the gods. He speaks just about any language there is, and is a supporter of Duolingo (which he of course has some sort of economic interest in). Thanks to his wizardry on the stock market, the gods no longer materialize money whenever needed on Earth, but take use of his Olympus Stock Fund. That is just good economy, you know, to avoid inflation! 

Hermes (naturally) has a whole set of magical items. His caduceus, which usually takes the form of a leather wrap-around bracelet. His winged shoes, where the wings are usually resting in the form of stitched on embroideries. His rune stones, which helps him do fun party tricks such as handing out prophecies. 

But do touch his hair. Not that he is worried you will mess up his curls! He is just sensitive about… uhm... some  _ extra features _ he tries to hide under it. 

Fake ID: Hermes Ανίπταμαι διαγωνίως / Aníptamai Diagoníos

 

Dionysus

God of wine, of madness and ecstasy, fertility and protector of the full LGBTQ++ community. He has lost count of how many times he has been misgendered, not that he really cares much. When it comes to anything remotely sexual, he is a fairly free spirit. Luckily, so is Ariadne, and the two are quite happy together in their open relationship. 

Dionysus is the youngest of the bunch, and Hermes claims he carries Dio’s baby pictures. You do not mess with Dionysus unless you want to hussle with Apollo, Hermes and Artemis. Not that Dionysus can’t fight his own battles! Ever had ivys drag you to Tartarus? Or been transformed into dolphins? No? Oh well.

Dionysus carries an amethyst necklace which prevents him from getting drunk, high, or roofied. Nice to have if you spend most of your day sipping wine, but still have a yoga class at 2. From the amethyst, he can conjure his pinecone staff. 

Fake ID: Dionysus σταφύλια της οργής / Stafýlia tis Orgís

 

Oliver Blümental 

Friend of Artemis and Personal Trainer at the local gym. Also referred to as “Buff, Dark and Handsome” by Dio and Hermes. Oliver is simply a straight up nice guy, and according to Apollo, his laugh should be illegal. 

 

Beatrice Freud

The not so very chill neighbour. 

 

Eleanor Freud

The niece of Beatrice, and much more chill. According to Hermes, she has angel wings tattooed on her back and always brings handcuffs to their dates. ~~(What? No, Hermes does not have a thing for wings and handcuffs… No… Not at all! How could you assume such a thing about this innocent man!)~~

Sól and Máni

Sól and Máni are the goddess and the god of the sun and the moon in Norse mythology. They were such beautiful children, that their father named them after the sun and the moon (Sol and Måne in Norwegian/Danish/Swedish). As a punishment for such pride, the gods had the children pull the actual sun and moon in each their wagon pulled by horses. They are hunted across the sky by the wolves Sköll and Hati. 

 

Loki

The trickster god of Norse mythology. Totally transformed into a female horse once and got pregnant. But he doesn’t talk much about that. These days, he is busy being tortured in a chamber underground. Fun times.

 

Spitofido

One of Hermes’ snakes. Fido usually takes the form of a golden charm on Hermes’ bracelet, but when the caduceus is in its original form, Fido is a leopard snake ( _ Zamenis situla)  _ with a bite that causes people to fall asleep.

 

Rodney

One of Hermes’ snakes. Rodney the Riot Snake enjoys causing havoc with his bite. His venom causes people to become hyperactive, and is the only cure to Fido’s bite. Rodney is often seen as a silver charm on Hermes’ bracelet, but when up and slithering, he is a catsnake ( _ Telescopus fallax). _

 

Cecil

Cecil really should go ahead and get himself a new pair of glasses. Other than that, he really enjoys Mario Kart and Chess.


	9. Three Gods and Two Runaway Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you are used to roam freely around Hermes' palace on Olympus, it is not as much fun to be locked up in Hermes' room all day. Is it odd that a couple of snakes have the need to stretch? Rodney the Riot Snake has run off and is free in the city. The problem? His venom causes people to become go crazy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to check the out, I have made three Pinterest collections to show off the brother's aestetics:  
> Apollo: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/apollo/  
> Hermes: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/hermes/  
> Dionysus. https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/dionysus/

“ _ HERMES! _ ”

  Oh shit.

  It was going to be one of those days…

  Hermes considered closing his eyes and pretend he was still asleep, but Apollo knocked against the wall between their bedrooms. And probably quite hard, because their walls weren’t even that thin. 

  “ _ Hermes! Get in here! _ ”

  Definitely one of those days.

  As he sat up in bed, his eyes fell on his desk where his caduceus lay after having been in use the night before, and he instantly knew what the commotion was about. 

  “Not again…” he groaned. 

  On the floor, he found a somewhat clean hoodie - one of his favourites with an UFO and the text  _ Get in loser - We’re doing buttstuff _ \- and a pair of sweatpants. He would probably have to run around the whole apartment for the next hour anyway.

  As he suspected, Apollo was flat on his stomach on the floor of his bedroom, and did not look too happy. 

  “What’s the rule, Hermes?”

  Hermes shuffled. 

  “What’s the rule we agreed on?”

  Hermes mumbled, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

  “What. Is. The. Rule. Hermes?”

  He sighed and recited it loud and clear. “The snakes do not leave my room.”

  “And why is that, Hermes?”

  “Because they are venomous.”

  “And?”

  “Because they like biting people.”

  “And?”

  “Because Fido really likes biting you in the toes so your legs fall asleep.”

  “ _ And _ ?”

  A loud  _ thump _ sounded from Dionysus’ room.

  “Because Fido really likes biting Dio so he falls asleep while standing.”

  “ _ AND _ ?!”

  “Because we need Rodney to bite him in order to wake him up again, because his venom causes people to become energic and go a bit mad...”

  Apollo slapped his hand to his floor. “Exactly! And would it be highly inaccurate of me to assume you have no idea where he is at the moment?”

  A gust of wind blew through the hallway, and Hermes instantly knew the door to the patio was open.

  “That would be a very accurate assumption indeed.”

  Apollo lay his face back down against the floor and grumbled. “Do you still have that vile of Rodney’s venom to fix my paralysis?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Be a good little brother and go get it so I can track down your bastard snake and shoot an arrow through its head.”

 

Once Apollo’s control of his legs were restored, Dionysus had been carried to bed, and the runaway leopard snake had been coaxed back onto Hermes’ winged caduceus - rather unwillingly, but clearly pleased with a good day’s work - Hermes and Apollo got out on the streets to search for the lost catsnake. 

  “Why can’t you keep your pets under control?”

  “They do not like the new apartment. They are used to roam free in my palace on Olympus. Have you ever tried to walk two pet snakes in the city? Have you ever tried to crawl naked on asphalt? They do not like it.”

  Apollo huffed. “No, I have not, and I do not plan to. Can’t you just ask the creature if he can track the other one,” Apollo asked. He had a bit of a funny walk, like he had been working out too hard the day before, and every step was a pain.

  Hermes cocked an eyebrow at Fido. 

  The snake hissed, called Apollo a few things, and then promptly fell asleep, wrapped around the staff. 

  “What did it say?” Apollo asked, glaring at the snake.

  “Yeah,” Hermes coughed. “It would just get lost in translation. It was rather colourful. But the main message was something along the lines of  _ You wish. _ ”

  Apollo scoffed. “Fine then.”

  By his will, the caduceus changed form and shape, and soon it was a leather wrap-around bracelet with wooden beads and two carms - a set of white angel wings and a golden snake.

  “What is the deal with you and wings anyway?”

  Hermes shrugged, and looked away to hide his blush. “I just think they are neat.” 

  “Okay then.” Apollo took his phone out and opened Google Maps. “If we were snakes, where would we go?”

  “You mean, if we had a bite that made people energetic and crazy, and liked to cause havoc? I’d say big crowds.”

  “That is the whole city, then.”

  “The last time I found him at a graveyard, trying to resurrect the dead.” Hermes shuttered. “His breath smelled like zombies for a week.”

  “How much venom does he have?”

  “Not a lot. Maybe enough to bite three to four people an hour? And according to Fido, he left three hours ago. We need to look out for people who are acting more energetic than usual, and who might be causing trouble in the streets.”

  “Like those women over there?” Apollo pointed to a square ahead, where a group of four women were marching, carrying protest signs. It wouldn’t have been so odd unless they were all basically jogging in a way too tiny circle, screaming their lungs out.

  “Something like that, yes.”

 When they got closer, Hermes coughed loudly. “Ladies, if you wouldn’t mind, could you tell me what you are rioting about?” If there was one secure way to get the attention of protesters, it was to ask them to enlighten you. The women abruptly stopped jogging and as one, turned against him and Apollo. They had a grin that reminded Hermes all too much about the night they had lost Queen Bella (alas, such a good doggo). One of the women stepped forward, and he noticed that her eyes had a faint silvery glow.

  “We are protesting against unfair abortion laws! They are practically making abortions unavailable for women!”

  Apollo sighed. “Why did I choose an apartment in the US again? This country is crazy.

  “No worries, brother. There are plenty of awful politicians back home in Europe too,” Hermes said, and patted his brother’s shoulder in comfort. “What are your plans of action?” 

  “First, we rally up the politicians, first and foremost rich, white men.”

  “Mhm, makes sense.

  “Then we bring them back home to Beth’s place.” 

  One of the women raised her hand and waved. “Hi there!”

  “Okay?”

  “And then we eat them.”

  That was a new one. Hermes looked to Apollo, who’s jaw had dropped. “I think these are the victims we are looking for,” he whispered.

  “You  _ think _ ?” Apollo cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss, but I do not think we can allow you to eat people.”

  “Why not?” Hermes asked and shrugged. “Sounds reasonable.”

  “What, no! They’ll get parasites and Creutzfeldt Jacobs syndrome! Humans eating humans is bad!”

  “Oh, right. Good point.”

  “So…” The protester narrowed her eyes, and her fellow women strengthened their grip on their picket signs. “Are you planning to stop us?”

  Once again, her eyes glowed, and Hermes supposed they should hurry up.

  “Okay, Miss. I am going to take out my snake, and I would very much appreciate it if you didn’t scream when it touches you. I promise, it will only hurt for a bit.”

 

  In retrospect, he should have phrased that differently. Now, he was nursing a black eye, while Apollo - the lucky duck - was only nursing a cup of coffee and a bagel.

  Apollo yawned and cradled his cup. They were sitting outside a coffee shop, as Apollo had insisted on a proper breakfast on a proper chair.

  “I feel more worn out than I did the day after my last PT-session with Oliver.”

  Hermes snickered, and Apollo slapped him gently on the arm. “You know what I mean. Being chased down by four hyperactive women who wants to eat you?”

  “I am just glad we found a secluded ally to trap them in and have Fido bite them. I have no need for Ellie to show up and arrest us for violating women.”

  Apollo frowned. “Ellie?”

  Ever so innocent, Hermes shrugged. “Eleanor? You know, the police officer from the party?”

  “Oh, her! If you see her again, would you ask her to tell her aunt to lay off? I did  _ not _ play music loud enough for her china to fall out of the cabinets. Or were the two of you only an O.N.S? You seemed pretty damn happy the morning after. Maybe she’s a keeper?”

  “I’ll ask her,” Hermes said, trying to end that conversation as soon as possible. Instead, he stuffed his face with a scone, hoping the message was obvious. He had no needs to explain to his big brother the details of his and Eleanor’s several-night-stands and FWB arrangement. He was a free soul, okay! Mortals came and mortals died and he’d seen first hand what getting too attached had done to Apollo.

  “Back on track, where to next?” he asked once he had swallowed the way too big piece of scone. 

  Apollo finished his coffee and cleaned his mouth with a napkin. “Should we just walk around the neighbourhood and see what happens?”

  “I’ll turn on local news alerts on my phone. If any zombies start roaming the streets, we’ll know.”

  It didn’t take long for them to run across another odd scene. An elderly man was standing under a tree, talking softly to the leaves.

  “Come on down, dearest. I promise, I’ll get you that expensive food from the store.”

  Apollo, helpful as always, crossed the street to approach the man. “Do you need any help, sir?”

  “My kittens are stuck in the tree and refuse to come back down.”

  “Your cat, sir?”

  “No, cats. All of them. And the missus.” The man pointed up into the tree, and both Hermes and Apollo jumped backwards. There, perched on the branches in the tree, was four cats and a grandmother. Their eyes glowed and everyone were hissing at them.

  “I think she forgot her pills today,” the man mused. 

  Apollo turned to Hermes. “I hate your snake so much right now. It bit  _ cats _ ? Do you even know how scary aggressive cats are?”

  “Don’t blame me! He’s a catsnake, of course he bites cats. And anyway, it was  _ you _ that gave me the caduceus.”

  “Yeah, and I suggested decorating it with some pretty ribbons, but  _ nooo _ . You had to be in a rebellious goth teenage phase and get snakes!”

  “Snakes were in back then.”

  “Back in the 80s?” the man asked. “My Kitty had this snakeskin mini-skirt. I remember it well.”

  Hermes did not bother to make a calculated guess as to how old the cat-lady had been in the 80s or to philosophize about when you were too old for snakeskin mini-skirts. “Apollo, get up there. I’ll get Fido out, and you hand me one cat at the time.”

  “The cats are quite afraid of dogs,” the man said. 

  “I am not too keen on this idea either,” Apollo said, glowering. “Why don’t  _ you _ climb up?”

  “Because Fido doesn’t like you.” Then Hermes turned to the man and pulled a notebook and a pen out of his pockets. “Listen, we are going to need some equipment. Take this list, head to the nearest hardware store. We’ll keep an eye on your… uh…  _ kittens _ .”

  The man jogged off with the list, and Hermes sighed. “Well, that will keep him away for a little bit so we can undo this without any mortals noticing.”

  “What did you write?”

  “Hardware equipment. But in Bulgarian. Now, get up there.”

  Believe it or not, the lady was the worst. Apollo already looked like he had gone through a meat grinder after the four cats, but a kicking, biting, clawing and spitting old lady was no easy task. Hermes was glad Fido was at the end of his staff, so he could keep the woman at bay. Apollo was not as lucky. 

  The old lady and her cats lay in a sleepy pile at the sidewalk while Hermes pulled bandaid after bandaid out of his pockets to plaster Apollo all over. At least he had taken off his red biker jacket, which lay unharmed on the ground next to him. But his arms were now covered in multi-coloured bandaids.

  “Don’t you have any  _ without _ the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”

  “No,” Hermes lied. 

  “You owe me so much right now.” 

  “Yeah yeah, I’ll buy you concert tickets or something. Let’s scram before her husband shows up again.”

  Then his phone went off, and Hermes pulled it out. 

  “Anything helpful?” Apollo asked, putting his jacket back on, careful as not to rip off any bandaids.

  “The employees of a petstore rioted against their boss about the treatment of the animals.”

  “So.”

  “They attacked him with squeaky toys and then tied him up outside the store in a dog leash so people could throw dead rats at him.”

  “...Okay, let’s go.”

 

Hermes had never much liked pet shops. Sure, some were good. Some places, the employees would make sure you knew everything there was about keeping a snake healthy before they even allowed you to leave the store, whether you had bought something or not. Once or twice, he’d even gotten people’s private number, to call just in case he had any further questions.

  But pet shops with dogs in cages and way too many parakeets crammed together? Pet shops where they told you to buy tiny fish bowls and small crates? No. He did not like those. Actually, he even had some stocks in a few really good stores, just to make sure they could beat out any competition. 

  And this was one of  _ those _ stores, so he didn’t feel too bad about the police tape, the commotion of journalists, and the curious crowd. The thing was that he was pretty certain Rodney felt the same way about pet shops that he did. And so, he was pretty sure Rodney was on the other side of the police tape. 

  “What’s the plan,” Apollo asked.

  Hermes looked around the scene, trying to reach out with his senses. Getting in wasn’t a problem. The real question was what the situation was inside the store. Then he lost his train of thought when he noticed that one of the police officers standing guard outside had fiery red hair. He used a bit of colourful language.

  “What?”

  “Ellie is here.”

  “So?”

  “It just complicates things.”

  AKA he didn’t much want to have to knock her out when breaking in.

  “We will get in through the back, but we can’t use the streets.” He grinned. “Are you familiar with parkour?”

 

  It went… good enough. Apollo only lost his grip once, and fell graciously from the fire escape down into the alley behind the store. 

  “Nice landing,” Hermes praised, before letting himself down. He landed like a cat, silently on his toes with his knees bent. 

  Apollo groaned and got up, brushing his clothes. 

  “Once again, you owe me.”

  Hermes lay his hand against the backdoor. It was still locked, so the police must have entered from the front. That would explain why there wasn’t any security in the back. 

  He closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. The lock was electromagnetic, with a code. The hair at the back of his neck stood up, and he could feel the wings under his hair stretch and flutter as he let his powers stream through him and into the lock. There was a click, and the door opened on its own accord.

  He bowed, offering Apollo to enter first. “Age before beauty.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Next problem was surveillance. Hermes could sense the camera hidden on a shelf in a corner, in-between dusty goldfish bowls. It had a tiny red light, and he simply glared at it until the light went out. Cheap cameras were always so easy to manipulate.

  They crouched down and hid behind a tower of sturdy dog crates for flight travel. 

  Inside the store were two employees, restrained and lying on the floor where they were kicking and screaming and doing their very best to kick the police officers who were trying to keep them pinned down. A third employee was throwing himself between the lamps, as if he was Tarzan with a pique shirt. In all the cages, animals were screaming, howling, and whistling, and the commotion was almost deafening. 

  At the other end of the store, in a way too small glass cage, was Rodney. He was watching the commotion, and Hermes felt pretty sure he was enjoying himself.

  “Now what?” Apollo whispered. Hermes stretched out his arm, and the leather bracelet with the charms changed form. Fido hissed and complained about being woken up. 

  “Do your thing.”

  Fido complained some more, but Hermes scowled at him, and the snake let go of the staff and slithered off.

  “He will take care of the employees, but we need to deal with the police.”

  “And what exactly do you think you are doing?”

  Apollo and Hermes jumped and turned around, and Hermes felt his wings retract. Eleanor was standing with her arms crossed and nursed a glare that reminded Hermes of their neighbour, Beatrice Freud. 

  “It is not what it looks like,” Apollo said.

  “And what does it look like, exactly.”

  “Uh…” Then Apollo bumped Hermes in his ribs.

  “We-” Apollo bumped him again, a bit harder. “I mean,  _ I _ , lost my snake.”

  “You have a snake? I didn’t know that?”

  “Heh, yeah. Well. He got out, and he is a bit… venomous.”

  Eleanor groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Why do I have a feeling that you are involved with this whole affair?” 

  “Because he is,” Apollo huffed.

  “I have to take you down to the station.”

  “Ellie, come on!” Hermes whispered as pleadingly as he could, his hands folded. “Come on, please. We can fix this whole thing. We just need to get our snake.”

  She was about to say something - and he had a feeling she was going to yell at him - then her eyes fell on his staff. “What is that?”

  Oh dammit.

  “Uh. It’s…”

  “It’s a snake toy,” Apollo said. “You know, similar to those you have for cats.” He did a gesture that made it look as if he was fishing. Eleanor cocked an eyebrow.

  “Okay. I won’t ask too many questions. Which snake is yours, and will it bite me if I try to pick it up?”

  “He won’t bite. He knows who you are.”

  “Fido knows me, and he still bit me,” Apollo said, pouting.

  “That is different. Fido doesn’t like  _ you _ .”

  “Wait, hold on,” Eleanor said. “I haven’t even met the snake.”

  Hermes felt his tongue twist. How was he supposed to explain that he had talked to his snakes about Eleanor just last night, that he had vented to them about the angel wings tattoo on her shoulder blades and how she had brought handcuffs when she first came to their apartment.

  What? The snakes were good listeners! They couldn’t spread rumours, except to other snakes and to Odin’s ravens.

  Wait… Huginn and Muninn were the worst tatter tales in the mythological universe. 

  ...

  He would have to have a word with Rodney and Fido when they got home. 

  “He… he will recognize your smell. From my bed sheets- I mean! From my room!”

  There was a small twitch in the corner of her mouth, and Hermes grinned. 

  “What should I do?” she asked, leaning in to conspire.

  “It is the grey snake in the glass cage to the right. Just stick your arm in there, and he will climb up on his own accord. Just tell him to hide under your uniform, he will know the command. And try to get the other officers away from the employees. We need to give them an antidote.”

  “And you promise he won’t bite me?”

  “If he does I will make him into a belt, be sure to tell him that.”

  Apollo and Hermes crouched back down to watch as Eleanor walked towards the cage in question. Rodney peeked up, watching her curiously. The other officers only gave her a quick glance, but they were far too busy trying to tazer the Tarzan or to avoid being kicked in the groin by the restrained employees. One of the officers failed his task, and curled up to a groaning ball.

  Eleanor opened the cage and let her hand in. Even from this distance, he could see that she was shaking ever so slightly, but Rodney just sniffed her with his tongue, and then climbed up. Her mouth moved, and the snake disappeared down her collar towards her back. Her body shook, as if someone had slipped an ice-cube down her uniform.

  At the same time, one of her colleagues managed to hit the Tarzan, who fell to the ground twitching. Hermes winced. He had had his fair taste of tazers in a few robberies gone wrong.

  But once the body hit the floor, he saw Fido throw himself out of a shadow, bite Tarzan, and then disappear under the shelves before anyone could see him.

  One down, two to go. Eleanor crossed the store to help the other officer who was now trying to keep both handcuffed employees down. In what was clearly not an accident, she tripped in a shelf so that several boxes with assorted cat toys fell down over the officer that was not currently nursing his tender parts. That was enough to make a few seconds of confusion, and enough for Fido to appear, bite both victims and disappear again. 

  Shortly after, Fido was back behind the dog crates, slithering up Hermes’ staff, where he yawned and feel asleep again.

  “Good boy,” Hermes whispered and petted his head with a finger. Then he willed the staff back into a bracelet and nodded to Apollo. The two snuck out as quietly as they could. As they were about to exit, Hermes glared at the camera in the corner, and the light went back on. 

  Mission accomplished.

 

  “May I assume you will not tell me the full story about this?” Eleanor asked. The scene had changed, and now, the employees were being tended to by healthcare personnel. In the commotion, no one seemed to notice Eleanor talking to two random observers in the crowd.

  “Good assumption!” Hermes said. “Do you have  _ the package _ .”

  She shuttered. “Don’t say it like that. It makes me feel like a corrupt cop.”

  “If you are, you are the good kind of corrupt cop. Actually, would you mind being so corrupt as to take your uniform home some day? I’ll bribe you with pizza?”

  “I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” Apollo said and walked away to give them some privacy. Hermes made a mental note to actually do get him some concert tickets. 

  Eleanor held the collar of her uniform open, and Rodney slithered out and over to Hermes’ shoulder.

  “You’ve been a naughty boy,” Hermes scolded. “Trust me when I say, we’ll have a serious talk once we get home.”

  “He is kind of cute, when he doesn’t go around biting people,” Eleanor said. She stroked the snake’s head, and Rodney hissed. In his own language, he gave her some nice compliments, and told Hermes to keep her around. Then he slid down and hid under Hermes’ hoodie.

  “I should get him a proper large snake cage. Maybe he won’t be as prone to running off.”

  “Maybe you should. But first, what was this offer about pizza and bribe?”

  “Your place?”

  “At eight?”

  Hermes walked backwards, still grinning. The wings under his hair gave a small flutter. 

  “See you then. Thief’s honor.”

  She scoffed, but smiled, before going back to her job.

  “I see you gained some weight,” Apollo teased and pointed to the obvious bulk under Hermes’ hoodie. 

  “Haha, very funny. Let’s get home and wake Dio up.”

 

Hermes ended up getting a massive glass cage for Fido and Rodney. It was probably better for them than to slither around his Red Bull cans and dirty laundry anyway. And Apollo approved, especially when Hermes offered him two concert tickets.

  “It is in a month, so if you are ready to be unprofessional by then, you can bring Buff, Dark, and Handsome.”

  Apollo had blushed, but accepted the tickets without arguing.

  Dionysus had seemed… well rested. He wasn’t even mad about Fido biting him.

  “Honestly, it was the best nap I’ve had in days!” Then he had offered to help Hermes decorate the snake cage with plants. 

  Eleanor hadn’t asked too many questions. But she did eye the snakes with interest the next time she stopped by.

  “Two of them, huh?”

  Hermes lay spread out on his bed, a laptop open next to him. He was currently busy with the ownership transfer of the pet shop. In a few months, it would reopen as a part of his new brand of world-wide ethical pet shops. Large cages, no puppy-mills involved.

  “Yup. I am sure I told you.”

  “Mhm. Of course you did. By the way, my aunt has been complaining about your gaming. Apparently, she can hear you yell at your TV all the way to her apartment.”

  “Yeah right.” Then he winked. “But she hasn’t heard anything else, has she?”

  Eleanor scoffed, but it was a bad attempt at hiding a laugh.

  “No, she hasn’t. She doesn’t even know I am here.”

  Hermes closed the laptop. “In other words… You are sneaking around. What is next, climbing out through the fire escape?”

  “Maybe. She is getting more and more nosy about you. What, would you mind if I did?”

  “Actually no. I would think it’d be pretty damn-”

  “Oh shut up or I will shut  _ you _ up.”

  “Challenge accepted.”

  And the snakes? They were both pretty pleased with themselves and with their new cage. They even promised to be more careful what rumors they spread to Huginn and Muninn. That took some tension out of Hermes’ shoulders. He didn’t really want the chief of the Norse Gods to know everything that went on in his room….


	10. Three Gods and a Slutty Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dionysus opens up about the Loki-incident, and attempts to get back on the horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne and Dio's secret language  
> Rum’n’Coke - Apollo and Hermes  
> Bitches - Bloody Mary  
> Treesome - Pina Colada  
> Badass dudes - Shaken, not stirred  
> Badass women - Metropolitans  
> Cuddles/comfort - Sherry  
> Sex - Tequila  
> “You sure are clingy. Sherry or Tequila.”
> 
> Beating someone up - White Russian  
> Mulled Wine - I need comfort / I need to vent etc.  
> “How many shots?” 1, 2 or 3 - the seriousness of the situation

As a God of Madness, Dionysus did know a thing or two about both the mortal and the immortal psyche. He knew PTSD was a normal, natural, and evolutionary compliant reaction in human beings. A normal reaction to a traumatic experience.

  But he also knew that he was not human. Neither were his brothers, or the other Olympians, or any of the other gods. Sure, he had once been mortal. But even then he hadn’t really been fully human. 

  And sure, Hephaestus didn’t like heights. Ares did struggle with some claustrophobia. Apollo preferred to stay as far away from Hermes’ snakes as possible. Still, it wasn’t equal to the things he had seen in so many mortals through his long life. Gods just healed differently after traumas. 

  That wasn’t the same as being fine, though.

  After almost two weeks of bad excuses and pretending everything  _ was  _ fine, Dionysus finally had to give up. It was just… It took some courage to admit it. To admit that no, he wasn’t okay. 

  And so, when Ariadne once again messaged him, asking if she could come to visit, he didn’t hand out a white lie to be alone. Instead, he texted her two words: “Mulled Wine.”

 

Ariadne: _ How many shots? _

Dionysus:  _ Not sure. 2? _

Ariadne:  _ I’ll be right there.  _

 

  Teleportation wasn’t neither comfortable or easy. Most gods could take a tour-retour  _ maybe _ twice a day. If they were well rested. A few gods were haywired to travel more, like Hermes, Iris, or Thanatos. Ariadne was not. When he opened the door for her, he immediately noticed that she was pale and tired, but perhaps it looked worse due to her worry. Her eyes, though, still had that determination they always harboured. In her auburn hair, a diadem of golden leaves with nine green cat’s eyes gleamed, and it was the same gleam that he recognized in her eyes. A spark that made it obvious that this woman was no longer satisfied being sidelined. Who wore her crown, not as a sign of obedience, but as proof of regal authority of her own life.

  “Mulled Wine?” He nodded, and she took his hand. “What do you need. Tequila or sherry?”

  With a sigh, he laid his forehead to her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him. 

  “I am guessing sherry. Talk first, movie after?”

 

  It took him close to half an hour to finish the whole story, and all the while, he lay in the comfort of Ariadne’s arms. He rested his head against her chest, listening to the beat of her heart. It had once pumped red blood through her, but Dionysus had made sure both she and his mother would never return to the Underworld ever again. The warmth of her skin came from golden ichor now, and he could feel the celestial power of it if he concentrated hard enough.

  "You didn't have to keep it hidden from me, you know." Ariadne poked him in the back of the head. "I do know a thing or two about dates gone bad."

  "I know. I didn't want you to worry."

  "That just makes me worry more. But thank you for telling me eventually."

  Dionysus traced the embroidered roses on her denim jacket. “I was thinking, maybe I should try again? Get back on the horse?”

  Her chest jumped as she snorted, and he rolled his eyes. “You have terrible humor.”

  “You know you love me for it.” 

  He could feel the thug of his hair as she began making small braids in it. It would be hell to get out again later, but he didn’t bother to tell her to stop. 

  “Dio?”

  Her voice got amplified through her chest, and he closed his eyes. “Mhm?”

  “Are you sure it is such a good idea? There is no rush to get back into the game. Maybe you should take your time, baby steps, you know?” When he didn’t respond, she sighed. “What movie do you want to watch?”

 

  “Why the slutty top?” Hermes asked as Dionysus put on his shoes. He himself had just pulled on a brand new varsity jacket, which, Dionysus noticed, carried someone else's name.

  “It is not slutty.”

  “Dude, it has a leopard print and I can see way more of your shoulder than strictly necessary. It looks  _ cold _ .”

  Dionysus huffed. “I am just going out.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to join us to the movies,” Apollo said, emerging from his room where he had been changing into fresh clothes.

  “I don’t. I am going out alone.”

  Apollo and Hermes looked at each other, and folded their arms in unison.

  “Why?” Hermes asked, his brows furrowed.

  “For fun.” Dionysus rolled his eyes. “I know you’ve heard of it.”

  “When will you be back?” Apollo asked. 

  “By _ curfew, mom _ .”

  “Don’t snap at me.”

  “I am not- ugh.” He rubbed his temples and took a couple of steadying breaths. “Okay, listen. I am just going to a club. Nothing fancy. I just want a drink. I’ll wear my amethyst. Stop worrying.”

  It was quite obvious that they would  _ not _ stop worrying, as they both stood silent. Dionysus chose to ignore them, and finished strapping on his not-very-high-high-heels with the purple velvet. 

  What? They had been a gift from Ariadne. 

  Just as he opened the door, Apollo said “Send us a text so we know where you end up?”

  Dionysus huffed, and closed the door behind him.

 

  Pubs, bars, clubs. They all had their own charm. Do you want to have a peaceful conversation over a pint? British pub. Do you want to look fancy and drink something even more fancy? Bar in Rio de Janeiro. Want to let loose and shut up your brain because you won’t be able to hear your own thoughts anyway? Go clubbing in Berlin.

  Want to flirt? Find a place where you can somehow manage everything in the same night.

  Step one: get a drink. Put your amethyst in your pocket so you can get tipsy. Order something pretty and obvious, say a Strawberry Daiquiri. 

  Step two: dance. Stop bothering about the fact that you are dancing with strangers. Everyone looks stupid anyway. That is the beauty of it.

  Step three: Get a new drink, but this time, sit down at the bar in a slightly more quiet area, preferably right next to a man or a woman who is currently sitting alone, nursing their own drink. 

  Step four: double check whether they have a wedding ring. Remember that which finger it is on varies depending on where in the world you are currently flirting (been there, done that).

  Step five…

  “What are you drinking?”

  The man looked up from his glass of whiskey, and shrugged.

  “I had the bartender pick it out for me. Why?”

  Dionysus laughed, low and quiet. “It is just not the best brand they have.”

  His glass was almost empty, and it seemed to occur to him as a sudden awkward realization, as he put it to his lips, only to put back down on his coaster.

  Dionysus waved to the bartender, who came over immediately. Honestly, he never had to wait in line ever for a drink unless he wanted to. Perks of being a god of wine.

  "One Johnnie Walker black label and a Cabernet, keep the change."

  "Well, we are looking fancy, aren't we," the man mused. "Whiskey and wine, not exactly common party drinks."

  Dionysus shrugged. "I am not exactly common myself." He accepted his wine and turned around on the stool to lean against the bartop. 

  “Yeah, I am starting to realize that. You know, I can pay for this myself?”

  Ouch? Deep in his gut, he felt a knot forming. 

  “Or… I can at least pay for the next round?”

  With that, the knot untied. 

    Perhaps it wasn’t so odd that after a few rounds, when Dionysus downed the rest of his wine and wiped his upper lip with his thumb, it did not escape him that it drew Cecil's gaze towards his mouth.

  And it sure did not escape either of them just how close they were to Dionysus’ apartment.

 

Dionysus placed two cups of tea on the table. Cecil was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. 

  Careful, as not to startle the man (again) Dionysus sat down on the far end of the couch. When Cecil still did not touch his tea, Dionysus cleared his throat.

  “So… I take it you are not-”

  “Gay? No.”

  “Okay then.”

  The awkward silence was still there, and Dionysus picked up his cup just to have something to occupy his hands. He was aware he wasn’t exactly  _ macho _ , and sure, once or twice people had asked him and Ariadne which one of them wore the pants in the relationship, but this was quite new to him. 

  “I’m sorry?” he said, but it came out as a question. 

  “No, it was my fault.”

  “Still, I didn’t mean to trick you or anything, but-”

  “No, really, it  _ was _ my fault.”

  Cecil groaned and leaned back, resting his head on the back of the couch. He took a couple of deep breaths, before saying “I have really shitty eyesight.”

  “Okay?”

  “No, I mean, really shitty.” He turned his head and looked at Dionysus. His cheeks were still bright red. “I just got contacts, and my friends suggested I’d go out and try to look smooth now that I didn’t have to worry about the  _ coke-bottle glasses _ .” Cecil added some air-quotes, then sighed. “I guess lenses aren’t my thing either. So, I’m sorry. You just looked… eh…”

  “And the voice didn’t tip you off?” Dionysus teased, glad some of the tension was gone.

  “Your voice ain’t even very deep!”  Once again, Cecil groned at himself. “I am  _ so  _ sorry. You could be having a mindblowing orgasm with some gay dude right now.”

  “It’s okay,” Dionysus said, drumming his fingers against the mug. “Honestly? I didn’t really feel like having a mindblowing orgasm tonight.”

  Cecil scowled. “What? Then why the slutty top?”

  “It ain’t- uh… Nevermind.” 

  “Hey, come on.” Ever so gently, Cecil bumped his foot against Dionysus’. “If you need to talk…”

  “I just had a bad date, that’s all.”

  “Worse than  _ this _ ?”

  Dionysus attempted to shrug it off, but Cecil bumped him again. 

  “You do not  _ have _ to tell me. But if you want to, I’ll listen.”

  With a sight, he closed his eyes and said "The guy drugged me in order to drink my blood."

  When he opened his eyes again, Cecil's mouth was wide open.

  "I… wow… okay, that's worse than this. You are totally right. Was… Was it like a Twilight fan gone dark, or? Because I remember when Twilight came out, people were insane!"

  It was hard to hold back a giggle. Dionysus  _ did _ remember the early days of Twilight too. And yes, teenagers were more or less mad. He should know, after all. Crazy fans were kind of his speciality.

  "No, no Team Edward shirt on this one."

  Cecil picked up his cup of tea and said "I was on Team Jacob myself." Then he sipped his tea slowly, as if he had delivered a rather juicy fact. Dionysus laughed.

  "Wouldn't have pinned you for a Twilight fan."

  "Wouldn't have pinned you for a dude, yet here we are."

  They toasted with their mugs. 

  The silence wasn't as intimidating anymore. It was kind of nice, actually. Once they had drained their cups, Dionysus thought it safe to ask.

  “Do you… Want to play Mario Kart?”

  “Video games?" Cecil cracked his knuckles. "Of course,  _ dude _ .”

 

And that was why Dionysus is now added to Cecil’s contacts as “Dio the Dude”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this, the story will probably turn a lot more PG with a lot less sexual themes. This chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, but I realized that a lot of what I kept adding was just filler, and wasn't really important for the overall progress.


	11. Three Gods and a Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Total rip-off of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and Three Men and a Baby. 
> 
> Do not get the references? You are too young to be here... (JK, Ao3 is for everyone)

It wasn’t that Apollo didn’t  _ like _ babies. It was just…

  He didn’t really interact with them a lot.

  Sure, he had had his fair share of kids throughout the world and the ages. Not as many the past 100 years or so - only one that he knew of - but… 

  And he’d stopped by, made sure they were fine. But mostly he had been invisible while taking care of them. He’d even birthed…no...conjured? Created? Uhm…  _ formed  _ some kids from a handful of relationships with guys. But he had made sure to hand them over to their mortal parents quite quick. 

  He had never really babysat before.

  “Come on,” Artemis pleaded, the lumpy baby in her arms following their conversation with interest. “Just for a couple of hours.”

  “But-”

  “You  _ owe _ me.”

  “Artemis-”

  “I  _ delivered you _ .”

  “Artemis, it’s been over 4000 years-”

  “Mom would’ve  _ died _ .  _ You  _ would have died.”

  They glared at each other, blue against blue. Then Apollo sighed. It was inevitable anyway, because whenever she stared at him like that and threw the  _ midwife card _ , as he liked to think of it, she always won.

  “Fine. For how long?”

  “Just a few hours. My hunters need me back home in Europe. They are in a pickle with a hellhound. The stroller is in the hallway. Here.” She handed him the baby and a bag, and Apollo accepted both as best he could. Artemis groaned. “The other way around, gods. You can’t carry the baby as a bag and the bag as a baby.” She rearranged the two for him, and he felt his cheeks heat up.

  “I am not sure I can do this. What do I do if it cries? What do I feed it?”

  “ _ It _ … That’s a  _ she _ .”

  “Okay,  _ she _ then. What do I do with it- I mean,  _ her _ ? I have some leftover bacon, can I give that to her if she starts crying? It always works on Hermes.”

  Artemis groaned again, louder this time. Then she drew her breath and shouted " _ HERMES! _ "

  The baby didn't even flinch, much to Apollo’s surprise. He had been given the impression that babies tended to be rather prone to crying for just about anything.

From Hermes' room came " _ WHAT! _ "

" _ I HAVE A BABY FOR YOU! _ "

" _ WHAT? _ "

" _ A. BABY. FOR. YOU! _ "

  Hermes' door opened and he peeked out, still sitting in his gaming chair.

  "Why is it that people keep thinking delivering babies is a part of my job? Letters? Sure. Packages with clipped off fingers. No problem. Dead people? Chill. But babies?"

  “It is not a delivery,” Artemis said. “I just need you to look after it for a few hours.”

  “Oh. Oh! Okay then!” Hermes practically skipped down the hall and reached out. “Apollo, you are holding her wrong. Gimme gimme. Now, who is this little cutie?” He poked the baby gently on her stomach, and she grinned.

  “This is Riley. She is one of Ares’ girls,” Artemis explained.

  Hermes eyes grew and Apollo felt like someone - probably Ares - had punched him in the gut.

  “This is an  _ Ares’ kid _ ? Artemis, if we mess up, Ares is going to punch us to a pulp!”

  Hermes was watching the baby as if he was afraid she was going to explode. “Or Riley will punch us to a pulp…”

  “You guys are so stupid. It will be fine!”

  “Wait, wait,” Apollo held up his hands. “Why isn’t this kid with her mortal parent anyway?”

  “Her mother got into a barfight and is at the hospital for a few days. She knows about the whole deity thing, and Ares said he could look after the baby.”

  “And why isn’t he currently caring for it?”

  “There are wars going on.”

  “There are  _ always _ wars going on. So Ares should be babysitting, instead you are babysitting. And instead of you babysitting, you want us to babysit.”

  “Please and thank you.”

  “Hermes, back me up here.”

  Apollo turned to his little brother, only to find that he was blowing spit bubbles. The baby was laughing and trying to touch them, and saliva was running down her chubby arms. Apollo sighed. This was going to be a long couple of hours.

  “I guess I have two babies now.”

  "You will be fine," Artemis reassured him. "Just don't be stupid, and use common sense. I will be back soon anyway." 

  Before she closed the door behind her, Apollo called after her. "If you do not come right back after that hellhound is dealt with, I swear I-"

  "Love you, bye!" 

  And with that she was gone.

  Hermes had taken off one of Riley's socks and was playing with her toes. 

  "And this little hero killed the lion. And this little hero caught a deer. And this little hero found the doggie. And this little hero stole a mare. And this little hero earned fame and cheer!" At the end, he tickled the baby's foot, and she howled in laughter.

  Apollo watched, trying not to let his curiosity show. Hoping he sounded nonchalant, he dared to ask. “What do you do with a baby anyway?”

  Hermes gave in a rather un-amused glare. “Come on. Have you never spent any time with your kids?”

  “Sure, but not as much as babies, I usually wait until they get older. I mean, I gave Asclepius to Chiron more or less immediately, but I did care for him for a day or so.”

  “Yeah I remember.” Hermes turned his attention back to Riley, and talked to her with a dramatic baby-voice. “Uncle ‘Pollo sent me thousands of messages because he freaked out every time tiny ‘Pius made a noise. I was the one who cut him out of the burning flesh of his mother, as she was put on the pyre, dead and pregnant-”

  “And that is enough, this is not PG! And do not call me ‘Pollo. Do not teach her that!"

  Hermes chuckled, which made Riley smile a toothless grin. “But to answer your question, you clean them, play with them, and go for walks with them.”

  “Like… like a dog?”

  “Apollo… no.”

  “But you walk dogs?”

  “I… oh gods. I’ll just teach you.” With a gentle bop on her nose, Hermes went back to talking to Riley in his high-pitched voice. “Do you wanna go outside? Do you? See the sights?” When Riley made some rather loud sounds, which Apollo supposed were noises of joy, Hermes grinned. “You do? Okay then. Where do you want to go?” More babbling, to which Hermes nodded as if he understood her. “The park. Good choice. Loads of single women at the park sunbathing.”

  “Say what now.”

  “Babes dig babies. Have you never watched 90s sitcoms?”

  Apollo shuttered. “I have, and I must say, there were some things I do not miss from the 90s. Ace Ventura, for example. And crop-tops.”

  It didn’t seem Hermes cared, instead he balanced on one foot at the time and shook his legs until the embroidered wings on his slippers unstitched and transformed into feathered wings. “Guys, we are going out.” The left wing immediately started flapping, whilst the right needed some convincing shaking first. Soon, the pair were working in tune, and Hermes lifted a couple of inches above the ground. Once the flapping stopped and he lowered back down, his slippers had turned into a pair of yellow high-tops. By carefully moving Riley from one arm to the other, he managed to get his varsity jacket on. 

  “Come on, bro. I’ll show you how to babysit like a pro.” 

 

They never got as far as to the park.

  The thing was, there were two rather cute women at the bus stop, and they instantly started fuzzing over Riley. Briefly, Apollo wondered if Hermes somehow was able to teach babies how to be extra cute for single women, because Riley was grinning like stupid, grabbing fingers and making cute baby sounds of joy.

  “She is adorable,” one proclaimed, grinning at Hermes, who was kneeling next to the stroller. “Is she yours?”

  “No, no,” Hermes winked. “She’s my brother’s.”

  The other lady looked up at Apollo. “You have a very cute daughter!”

  It took him a couple of seconds, before he put up his hands. “No! Not mine either! We, Hermes and I, are brothers too, but… no.. not mine.”

  They chuckled, and stood as a bus stopped.

  Hermes jumped to a stand and grinned. “Hey, we are going on this bus too! What a coincidence!” 

  And before Apollo could argue that no, this was not their bus, he found himself inside of it. 

  After ten minutes of polite chatting and playing with Riley, the women prepared to get off.

 

   “This our stop,” one said and Hermes, once again, stood.

  “No way, it is ours too!”

  “It is?” Apollo asked, and earned a kick on the shin. 

  “Of course it is!”

  The four made their way out the back of the bus, and stood briefly on the sidewalk in that kind of awkward silence where everyone are trying to muster up the guts to suggest what everyone else are thinking.

  “Would you guys like to grab a cup of coffee?" One of the women finally asked. "There’s a really nice coffee shop just around the corn- where is your baby?”

  Apollo looked to Hermes, and his stomach dropped. He had been sure Hermes had taken Riley, but by the horrified look on his brother’s face, he had somehow had the very same, yet opposite, impression. 

  “Didn’t you…” Hermes whispered, then, without hesitation, he ran off in the direction of the bus, no thought for the people left behind.

  “Hermes! Oh,  _ fuck _ .”

  The women looked equally worried, but honestly, he didn’t much care. With a final nod of good-bye, he took off in the same direction Hermes had disappeared.

  There was no way Apollo could catch up. By the time he had rounded the corner himself, there were no bus and no Hermes to be seen. For a moment, he stood bewildered, considering each possible direction. Then he closed his eyes, and moved his attention from one body to another.

  His full essence awoke in the sun chariot, with the cold breeze against his face and the heat of the sun behind him. The fresh air mixed with the scent of horses, and Pompeii was blasting from the speakers installed on both sides inside the chariot. His leather jacket and jeans had been traded for a red chiton with golden embroideries, and he could feel the pressure of the wreath of laurels crowning his head. Through an invisible veil, he could sense the presence of Sól, and so many other deities, all hidden from his sight. Yet he knew they were close, each carrying their golden orb as an embodiment of the actual sun. Each pulling their weight of their common duty. 

  At the same time, he could hear the noise of the busy city street around him back down on Earth, as a distant and weak echo in his mind. If he concentrated, he could smell the dusty air and feel the hard asphalt under the sole of his shoes. Instead, he pulled his attention back to this body, leaving the other to stand with his eyes closed and probably very much in the way for the stressed humans roaming the streets. 

  From here, he could look down at the Earth below him, and try to focus on the city in question. He wasn’t high enough to see the whole world covered in daylight, but much like how Sól usually stuck closer to the ground in her native lands, he usually stuck around the Mediterranean or wherever he was currently residing. 

  Perhaps he could be accused of having hyperopia, but it kind of came with the job. He could feel the sweat trickle on his temple as he concentrated, but his stomach fell when he realized it wouldn’t help much. There were simply too many buses. After a minute or so, he finally spotted Hermes. He was fast, much faster than most humans. It didn’t seem like the people he ran by ever noticed how his feet never touched the ground, or how the wings on his shoes were flapping as fast as they could. Instead they jumped out of the way and shouted curses after him. As the bus Hermes was chasing stopped, he pushed his way through the back door, earning a lot of intense glares. But before the bus had left the stop, he was out again, running back the way he had come. Once he found another bus, he repeated his tactics, chasing it, then searching it as soon as it stopped.

  When Hermes ran out of the fourth bus, Apollo sighed and closed his eyes again. It took a lot of his energy to dissolve his extra body, move it to Hermes location, and then move most of his own presence back down to Earth. When he opened his eyes, he was back on a busy sidewalk, and half a second later, he was crushed to the asphalt of said busy sidewalk as Hermes ran straight into him.

  Before Hermes got the chance to run off again, Apollo wrestled him down on the ground and held onto him. 

  “ _ Stay! _ ” he commanded, not caring about the curious glances of the people walking past them. Once Hermes’ struggles to get free were more half-hearted, he picked him up, threw him over his shoulder, and carried him to the steps of a nearby thrift shop. There, he placed him carefully on the stoop. “ _ Sit! _ ”

  Apollo kept a hand on Hermes’ shoulder, making it clear that running off to keep searching was not an option. Hermes groaned and put his face in his hands.

  "I couldn't find the bus. Or, I thought I did, but it turned out to be the wrong one, an identical one! I followed it for ages! And then another. And another..." His voice was shaking, and Apollo sat down next to him.

  "It's only been five minutes. We’ll call the bus agency. The lost and found section!"

  “Lost and found.  _ Lost and found _ ? They do not put babies in the box with the sunglasses and wallets, Pollo!”

  “I told you not to call me that…”

  “You… Bird brain!”

  “ _ I _ never claimed to be good at this! You were the responsible one! You  _ never _ lost Dio when you were looking out for  _ him _ !”

  “Not that you know of…”

  “What?”

  "I lost her. I freaking lost her." From underneath Hermes' curls, Apollo could just make out two white wingtips, trembling as if they were freezing.

  "Your wings. Hermy, cover your wings!"

  "I am so fucking irresponsible. I always do things like this! Now the baby is probably halfway to the other side of the city."

  His wings kept growing, poking two inches out of his hair now. Apollo moved in and drew Hermes' hood over his head.

  "Calm down!"

  But Hermes' breathing speed up.

  “I need... a paper bag... ASAP.”

  “It is just a baby. How much mayhemn can a baby make?”

  “Pollo… That is...  _ not the... problem _ .”

  “I mean, it probably can’t even lift a sword.”

  For some reason, Hermes looked as if his eyes were going to pop out.

  "Apollo," he whispered.

  Now worried that is brother might be om the bridge of a nervous break-down, Apollo threw his arm around him. He whispered back, softly as not to startle him. "Yeah?"

  Hermes turned his head to look at him. Then is eyes turned cold. "Get me... a fucking... paper bag." 

  "Okay."

  " _ Now! _ "

 

  Hermes was sitting with his head in his hands when Apollo came back, his breathing shaky and the wings still trembling.

  "I got you a scone. And myself a coffee."

  Hermes grabbed the bag, pulled out the scone, and threw it across the road to a flock of pigeons. Then he started breathing into the bag.

  "Hey! I paid for that."

  The response was a not so very polite hand gesture.

  Apollo sighed and sat down on the sidewalk next to Hermes. People had begun to offer them some curious glances, and he rather hoped Hermes would get it together soon. It wasn't really like him to freak out. The wings were poking against the fabric of his hood, and it looked as if he had a set of misplaced devil horns or perhaps a pair of very large ears.

  "Hey, Hermy, it will be alright. We will just call the bus service company!"

  "Can't." He breathed in and out of the bag. "Lose." In-out. "Another." In-out. "Baby."

  "What do you mean?"

  With a shuddering breath, Hermes lay down the bag and rested his head in his hands again. "I totally lost Dio."

  "Dio is not lost, he is just sleeping."

  The glare Apollo got was enough for him to move a couple of inches further away. "Okay, bad joke, sorry. But you were a great babysitter for Dio! Everyone knows that."

"No, you don't understand. I lost him. He was maybe two? He had been all over the place, I was trying to keep Hera off his track! But the nyads on Nyssa, they were sending me messages more or less every day. They wanted updates on him, they adored him. So I thought I would take him back there next."

  Hermes sighed, then reached out and grabbed Apollo's coffee to drink from it. Apollo didn't even bother to scold him.

  "Anyway, he had started walking. I could only make him stand still if I was carrying him or we were flying. One morning, I woke up, and he was gone! I swear, I had rolled him up in my cloak and I had my arm around him when I fell asleep, but he wasn't there anymore. And I freaked, Apollo. I totally freaked! I thought Hera had got him! I was sure he was... was ripped to pieces or something."

  "Sweet old stepmom." Their relationship with Hera was a lot better these days, but Apollo couldn't really forget all the trouble she had caused for them. He didn't put a lot of thought and effort into her birthday presents, that was sure.

  Hermes downed the rest of the coffee and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  "I searched all over the place. It was night by the time I found him. Some nyads had come across him in the woods. The Hyades, you know? I was so relieved, I had constellations made of them. I let Dio stay there for a couple of years, actually. They took good care of him."

  With slightly shiny eyes, he sighed. "I can't believe I lost another kid."

  "Hey, Hermy." Apollo threw his arm over his little brother's shoulder and pulled him close. "This is different. Hera isn't after Riley. Quite the opposite, as one of Ares' kids, she probably loves it! And another thing." From the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out his phone. He waved in front of Hermes' face. "This time, we have modern technology and Google on our side."

 

  As it turned out,  _ “What happens if you forgets a baby on a bus” _ wasn’t such a stupid question after all. No one laughed at them. No one thought they were joking. Even the woman at the reception desk at the lost-and-found office took them quite seriously as they filled out their forms and did their best to describe the baby. 

  “She had clowns on her onesie.”

  “No,  _ Pollo _ , she had ducks.”

  “And she had this little mole on her left cheek.”

  “Right cheek.”

  “And her stroller was yellow.”

  “Red.”

  Honestly, it kind of worried Apollo that no one was making more of a big deal out of this. He had at least expected the police to show up. But no. All he got were forms and a baby who had just woken up from her nap.

  Riley looked as if this had all been a rather fun series of events, because she was babbling on in baby talk and stretched out her chubby arms when she was handed to Hermes. Apollo finished filling out the forms, pretending he did not notice the tears that were running down Hermes’ cheeks as he hugged the baby.

  They chose to get a cab back to the apartment.

 

  Okay, so babies were kind of cute, Apollo had to admit that. Especially after Hermes had changed her diaper. That did help quite a lot with the cuteness factor. 

  He had held his own kids many times. But he had never really stuck around much the first few years of their lives. Holding Riley, he wondered if perhaps he should have. She was watching him with large, dark eyes, her tiny hand was wrapped around his finger, and it stirred that feeling he usually felt holding his children for the very first time in their oh so short lives. That feeling that so often had him decide it would probably be for the best to step back until they were older and more capable of understanding. Humans were already so fragile. Babies much more so.

  He was lounging in his reading chair in the living room, warm sunlight streaming in through the patio doors. The child was a bit fuzzy, wriggling in his arms. 

  "Now now, food is almost ready," he reassured. 

  Perhaps he should go and check on his own kid later. Well, kid was perhaps not the right word. The woman was in her late forties and did pretty well for herself as a band manager in Poland. 

  "Bottle is ready," Hermes said as he came out of the kitchen. "I put a small drop of nectar in it. I always do that with my kids. Great nutritional value. It will help her develop any unusual powers. Give her here."

  Carefully, Apollo maneuvered the child into Hermes arms. It was odd to see how secure and gentle his brother was around such small humans. Carrying her, changing her, feeding her. There was no hesitation after millennia of practice.

  Hermes sat down on the couch and urged Riley to take the bottle into her mouth. While she drank, he began to sing softly, a melody Apollo remembered from a time long forgotten. He felt pretty sure Leto had sung that very same song to him as a child. His guitar stood on the floor by his chair, and he picked it up and started strumming it.

  Down the hall, the door to Dionysus room opened. His long hair was a mess, and the kneelength t-shirt was crumbled. He came over, rubbing his eyes.

  "Damn, Mimi, did you get  _ another _ kid? She's cute."

  Hermes grinned. "Babysitting."

  "Oh. Alright." Dionysus climbed into the couch next to Hermes and rested his head against his brother's shoulder. With tender, slim fingers he caressed Riley's head. She didn't seem to notice, but kept drinking greedily.

  "Keep singing?" Dionysus requested. "I really like that song."

  And they did.


	12. Teach Me - Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aristaeus has only just recieved the young boy Dionysus to care for him. There is much to learn. Interlude chapter

  “Do you know what this is?” Aristaeus handed the young boy an olive, plumb and black. The child took it and squeezed it gently between his small fingers.

  “Berry?” 

  Aristaeus knew Dionysus had stayed a long time with various nymphs. The wild nuts and berries were still more known to him than the cultivated crops that surrounded Aristaeus’ cave.

  “No, Dionysus. Not berry. But close. It is a fruit, one you can eat.”

  His brows - still weak in colour and undefined as it is with small children - furrowed. 

  “ _ Ródi _ ?” he asked.  _ Pomegranate _ . 

  “No. They are big, aren’t they? This is small. Taste it?”

  Dionysus put the olive in his mouth, and then bit down hard.

  Immediately tears swell in his eyes, and he spit the olive out. Scared and confused sobs escaped him, and he reached out with his short and plump arms. It was sort of awful and amazing at the same time. Dionysus hadn’t even been there a day, yet he didn’t hesitate to reach out for his new caretaker. 

  Aristaeus picked him up and settled him on his lap.

  “That was stupid of me. I should have warned you of the stone. Did it hurt, child?”

  Dionysus kept sobbing, and hid his face against Aristaeus’ chest. 

  “Stupid stone.”

  Carefully and with the same tenderness he would use to care for his sheep, bees, and olive trees, he patted Dionysus’ back

  “There there. The stone hurt you, but that was because you didn’t know the fruit yet. It was an olive, Dionysus. It is what I use to make the oil. The stone is not stupid, it is its seed. Without a seed, the olive tree would not be able to make more trees.”

  “But it’s hard.” The sobbing had quieted enough that Dionysus could put his surprise and annoyance into words. “Why would it be hard?”

  “Animals will eat the olives, and then poop out the seed. It is so hard, it goes straight through.” With a playful wink, Aristaeus poked Dionysus’ stomach, and earned a chuckle. 

  “Poop.”

  Of course that was what the child got caught up with. Aristaeus sighed. 

  “So that is why the seed is so hard. Athena made them like this.”

  With large eyes, Dionysus gasped. “Athena?”

  “Athena, yes. Your sister.”

  The child sat in silence, thinking. Then he proclaimed - “If  _ I _ made  _ olives- _ ,” he tested the new word. “- I would make the seeds small.” With dimpled fingers, he showed just how tiny he wanted his seeds to be.

  “Maybe someday you will,” Aristaeus said, encouraging the curiosity and creativity. Then he picked out a new olive from his basket, and handed it to Dionysus. “Do you want to try again. More carefully, this time?”

  Once again, Dionysus took the offered fruit, but this time, he held it between his fingers and nibbled it with great care. 

  “I can show you how to make oils. And I will show you how to make cheese and to keep bees, if you would like.”

  “Until Mimi comes back?” 

  The remark made Aristaeus bite his lip. He had no idea how long he would care for the child. It could be days, week, months, years. There was no agreed upon time. 

  “I should just stay with Mimi,” Dionysus said quietly. “Mimi should stay. He could make oil.”

  Aristaeus didn’t take it personally. Kids would say what was on their mind, with little to no filtering. Instead, he found it touching that Dionysus put his thoughts into words and uttered them to him.

  “How about I teach you to make olive oil, and then you show Hermes when he returns?”

  Once again, Dionysus’ eyes grew large with surprise. “I… I can teach?”

  Aristaeus nodded. “I teach you, you teach Hermes. That is how knowledge is passed from generation to generation, by teaching each other.”

  It seemed this was a quite new concept to Dionysus, the fact that he - a child - could teach someone else. Then he grinned, a large grin that made his cheeks dimple. 

  “Show me? Show me now?”

  Aristaeus laughed. “I will teach you everything I know. About growing fruits, and how to make sweet drinks with honey. I will show you.”

  Dionysus jumped off his lap, grabbed his hand, and pulled hard. “Now, now, now!”

  Aristaeus picked up his basket with olives, and allowed the boy to drag him back to the cave. He saw no need to scold the boy for his unpatientness, as long as it came from such a wish to learn and teach. 

  “Alright, let’s get to work.”

 


	13. Three Gods and a Snow Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's December, and the holidays are just about here! Apollo is out searching for the one last gift he needs to buy - for Oliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who needs a pick-me-up these days. I'd send you all Christmas presents if I could.

  It snowed. 

  Apollo didn’t much like snow.

  Snow ment clouds, which meant no visibility neither  _ from _ the sun-chariot of  _ to _ the sun-chariot. 

  It meant cold. It meant cold, icy flakes that landed on his coat and melted and made his coat wet. 

  It meant icy roads and icy air and icy everything, and everything opposite of what he loved. Sun, warmth, light, dry. If it had been up to him, he would have just stayed inside with a cup of hot cocoa and a blanket and coaxed Dionysus and Hermes to join him on the couch to watch cartoons all day.

  Problem was, even though his brothers very much enjoyed hot chocolate and cartoons, they also enjoyed the winter season.

  To think they were even related. 

  “Artemis never have a problem with winter,” said Dionysus. He was dressed up in a wide and thick carpet scarf on top of a warm knitted sweater and an embroidered denim jacket. The vines in his hair had withered when they came out and turned into bare branches. Apollo couldn’t help but think he looked a bit too much like the pictures he had seen of Jesus Christ. 

  Which were all very much untrue. Long hair hadn’t even been in back then. Actually, he sometimes wondered if someone had seen his brother instead, and just mistook the two. 

  Personally, he preferred a warm woolen coat and a classy scarf. He had deemed the red biker jacket too thin for the weather, and so Hermes had immediately stolen it for the day. He was quite visible in the white landscape - red jacket and bright yellow beanie - taking the lead through the city and throwing snowballs at cars so that their burglary alarm went off.

  “Artemis likes the cold and dark. She goes up north these days, just to maximize the nighttime. Apparently it’s  _ beautiful with the snow and the full moon, all blue twilight and icy air _ .” Apollo got chills, just saying it out loud.

  “I think it’s nice,” said Dionysus. Half his face was buried in the scarf, and his voice came out muffled. “Many plants need a cold and dark period in order to get properly started again in spring. It’s a time to slow down, focus on the little things.”

  Apollo snorted, but got interrupted mid huff by a snowball to the back of his neck.

  “ _ Hermes! _ ”

  “You’re a real, proper Grinch, Pollo!” 

  Somehow, that too brightly coloured brother of his had snuck behind them unnoticed, and was now wiping snow off his mittens. 

  “You should enjoy the snow while it’s still fresh and white! Tomorrow, it’s probably gonna be all dusty and wet again. 

_ “Ah, it’s melting down the back!”  _

  “Serves you right for being such a stick in the mud.”

  “Oh gods, this is  _ awful! _ Dio, stop filming!”

  Dionysus shrugged and put his phone away. “Too late, I already sent your wriggle dance to Artemis, Ariadne, and Aphrodite. The three A’s.”

  “I’m not buying you any presents for winter solstice!” 

  “Come on, Pollo,” Hermes said as he came up besides them. “Everyone knows you bought all the presents in September.”

  “And everyone knows Hermes won’t buy any before the night before the 21st,” teased Dionysus. “Or, correction, you won’t  _ steal _ any before then.”

  “I’ve got a whole list of evil world leaders that I plan to steal from! I call it ‘The Naughty List.’ Do not pretend you’re not enjoying our monogram towels.”

  “Well, I am gonna buy presents today. For everyone except you two. And then-” Dionysus threw an arm around Apollo’s back, and Apollo could feel that little piece of snow still underneath his sweater be crushed and melt even faster against his skin, “I’ll treat you both to something hot to drink. What do you say?”

  “Actually,” Apollo said as the chill on his back resided, “I have one present left to buy. It’s the main reason I am out here in this gods-forsaken weather.”

  Hermes gasped and grabbed Dionysus’ shoulder. “It’s happening, the end of the world is here. Winter solstice is next week, and Apollo haven’t finished  _ his shopping? _ ”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “Who is the present for?” Dionysus asked, but Hermes huffed.

  “Oliver, who else. I’m willing to bet Rodney on it.”

  “You just keep your snake,” Apollo said, ending the conversation.

 

  Hermes wasn’t wrong, though. Buying presents for crushes was a pain. It had always been a pain, it would always be a pain. Still, he went out of his way to make sure he picked out the perfect present, every year, every time, to everyone. Once, he had given a lover a beautiful deer. It really had been the best idea ever, until Cyparissus had accidentally killed his pet, and then begged Apollo to make his grief into something beautiful and everlasting. Those genetical biologists could say what they wanted about evolution, but Apollo knew the true story about the creation of the cypress tree. 

  And the laurel.

  And the larkspur. 

  Yeah, he didn’t have the best record. 

  But he did have a great record for giving presents.

  Once at the shopping district, he just tagged along with his younger brothers, allowing the two to discuss presents amongst themselves while he studied everything he found with care.

  “You’re not getting anything for Hygiea?” he heard Hermes ask as Dionysus just rolled his eyes at the bag of wet wipes for make-up removal Hermes had just suggested. 

  “Dude, no. I can’t give something for everyone, we’d be here until summer. Close family and friends only.”

  “She is your grand-niece,” Apollo mentioned, while he considered the bottles of cologne. “I got her some fancy bars of soap.”

  “She is your granddaughter, that’s different.” Dionysus said with an eyeroll. “But we all know genetics doesn’t work like that for us, anyway. I choose who I consider family. No one is shaming dad and Hera for getting it on, even though they are siblings.”

  “I like to think Hygiea takes after me.”

  Hermes groaned and put the wet-wipes back. “Guys, please, let’s just not get into this again. It always gives me a headache. And you-” he pointed at Apollo who had just opened his mouth, “Do  _ not _ start monologuing about Aesclepius’ theories on godly creation of RNA! I’m not interested in listening to that sober ever again!”

  Apollo shut his mouth and put his hands in his pockets. “Excuse a dad for being interested in his son’s research.”

  “Are you thinking about getting your new conquest some perfume? Does he smell that bad?”

  “Idiot. And no, I don’t think I will. He doesn’t really seem to use it much.”

  “How about you get him a huge helium balloon that just says _ Fuck Me Pls _ ?”

  “Dio, leash your pet?”

  Dionysus grabbed Hermes by his scarf and pulled him along to a stand with eyeshadows. “Bad pupper. No treats for you. Help me pick out a set for Aphrodite.”

 

  “You could make him something?” Hermes suggested, while Dionysus was busy picking out an arrange of weaving yarn in colours of silver and bronze. “Knit him a scarf or something.”

  “I am not a big fan of knitting. That’s more Athena’s domain.”

  “Which is why we’re here,” said Dionysus, his arms full of yarn. “Wait while I pay.”

  Apollo started to absentmindedly look through the many fabrics on the shelves, while Hermes shrugged.

  “You’re making a really big deal out of this. People are happy just to get whatever.”

  “Sure, that’s why dad is so thrilled when you give him a new tie every year.”

  “They are stolen from the most terrible world leaders!”

  “I really doubt he has needed a new tie every year since the 17th century. Things pile over a few decades, you know!”

  Hermes shrugged and pulled on a loose thread in one of the fabrics Apollo had looked at. It relieved itself from the pattern slowly, dragging along extra threads until Hermes stood there with what looked like a withered bouquet of strings.

  “Maybe I should try to knit him a tie this year?”

  “Will you be able to sit still long enough?”

  “Funny.”

 

  “Does Ares even need another pair of military pants?” Apollo asked. The number of bags he was carrying was starting to make it difficult for him to look through the racks in the military outlet store. He had somehow managed to balance all in one arm, as long as he kept one leaned against his head. 

  “He does a lot of hard physical exercise. Not to mention how he keeps getting shot by mortals thinking he is an actual soldier.” Dionysus picked out a third set, looked at it sceptically, and threw it back into its pile. “Not enough pockets for all his throwblades.”

  Hermes showed up in an oversized jacket. “I think it looks good on me.”

  “Where is my biker jacket?” asked Apollo, frowning. 

  “Over there somewhere.”

  “Dude, you didn’t leave it on the floor, did you?”

 “No,  _ Dad _ . I mean, maybe. I’ll go pick it up right away.”

  “Doesn’t Oliver have one of those old military jackets?” Dionysus asked, not looking up from his search.

  “Yeah, and I am pretty sure he has mended it a hundred times. He doesn’t like throwing away stuff. He prefers to fix things.”

  “Mhm. These look alright, don’t you think? Hermes, no, you’re not buying one of those.”

  Hermes, wearing a military helmet, sighed. “Come on, for the next time we have a fight at a party!”

  “Forget it.”

  “Punch bowl?”

  “Put it back where you found it.”

  “ _ Fine _ .”

  “I suppose a new jacket wouldn’t be such a terrible idea,” Apollo mused.

 

  “She would hate this, Hermes. What are you even thinking?” Dionysus ripped the t-shirt out of Hermes’ hands. 

  “Aw, come on. ‘ _ I’m not insensitive, I just don’t give a fuck about your opinions _ ’. That is such a Hera mood!”

  “I am getting her something  _ nice _ .”

  “What about this?” Apollo held up a jean jacket with a woolen collar.

  Hermes made a face. “For Hera? I really can’t picture it.”

  “No, for Oliver!”

  Dionysus wrinkled his nose. “No.”

  “Fine.” Apollo rubbed his temples with his fingertips. He was starting to get a headache listening to the continuing Christmas music over the store speakers. 

  “But look here, this is perfect!” Dionysus threw himself against a pile of folded shawls, and pulled out one with colours in deep blue, gold and emerald.

  “For Oliver?” Hermes asked, and earned a scowl from Dionysus.

  “You’re impossible on purpose.”

  “Maybe I am. You promised hot chocolate, are we done soon?”

  Dionysus looked to Apollo, and Apollo did his best not to seem upset about not having found something yet. “Hot chocolate. Yeah. I suppose you are just about done shopping?”

  Dionysus frowned, them took the bags from Apollo. “Hermes, carry this. Apollo, you just keep looking. We will wait.”

  “But  _ Dio! _ Cocoa!”

  “No. Nope. Apollo, you do your thing. Herm, come on. I need to pay for this.”

    Suddenly alone, Apollo stood perplexed, not sure how to proceed. Then he threw himself over the racks of clothes. 

 

  There wasn’t anything in the store he could use. Nothing. Nada.

  Why were some people so difficult to shop for?

  Apollo found himself leaning his forehead on a stack of soft, fluffy sweaters on a table. 

  “It’s impossible,” he murmured into the clothes.

  “Sir, I must ask you not to cuddle our products.”

  Apollo stood abruptly, his cheeks heating up. One of the store employees, a young man carrying several clothes hangers with shirts, was frowning at him.

  “I… uh… Sorry about… I didn’t drool or anything.”

  “I get it,” the man said and shrugged. “The holiday season is stressful. Trying to find a present? We just got load of festive Christmas sweaters with blinking lights.”

  “That… Sounds horrible.”

  The man tried to hide a grin, then leaned in and whispered “I know, right. Fugly as hell. Who needs a sweater that can play you jingle-bells when you jump up and down at the exact right rhythm. As if I wasn’t already facing an aneurism by hearing it on replay in the store!” Then he bit his lip, thinking for a moment. “You want clothes?”

  “A jacket.”

  The clerk nodded. “Across the street. ‘The Purple Weaver’. They are the best tailors in the state, I am sure of it. If they can’t help you, no one can. But do not let my boss know I didn’t try to force you into buying something in here!”

  “I… Thank you! Thanks! In return, I promise you, the store music in here  _ will  _ change for the better!”

  The man looked confused, but waved and smiled as Apollo ran out of the store. Behind him, the music changed into AC/DC.

 

  The store was hard to miss. People walking by kept stopping to look at the clothes featured in the display window. A low-cut dress shimmered as if made of opals, a classic tweed jacket was nicely balanced with a beautiful silken tie and handkerchief, a fancy scarf featured the most wonderful embroidered butterflies. Really, Apollo thought, Dionysus should have walked just a little further down the street before buying that gift for Hera!

  A good old fashioned doorbell announced his arrival, and from behind a curtain, he heard footsteps. While he waited for the shop owner to show, he took in the amazing displays of clothes in the store. 

  The man had been right. This  _ had _ to be the right place.

  The curtain was pulled aside, and a woman came out, wearing a Chinese silk blouse and a friendly smile.

  “What can I do for you, Sir?”

  Apollo walked up to the counter and put on his best smile. “I am looking for a holiday present for a loved one. I have some ideas about how I want it done, and I would prefer to have it finished as soon as possible. If you have an opening in your schedule, of course. Otherwise, I am willing to pay extra for your time.”

  “And how will you be paying?”

  Apollo thought about it, then pulled out his card, the once certified by Hermes. No clerks ever seemed to recognize it, but he had never had any problems paying with it either.

  At the sight of the logo, the woman’s eyes widened, only a little. Then she leaned forward and whispered - 

  “Are you here for the, uh,  _ titanious discount _ ?”

  Not wanting to seem uninformed, Apollo just nodded. Even though he had never experienced the card being empty, a discount certainly was something Hermes would have approved. The clerk nodded back - in that knowing kind of way that you do to someone you just shared a secret with - and gestured for him to follow her.

  Behind the curtain was an office, but this was clearly not the destination. Instead, she opened a trapdoor in the floor, and once again gestured silently, this time for him to go downstairs.

  There wasn’t much light down there, but that was an easy fix. Soon he radiated sunlight, a warm and safe glow. Then he walked down the stairs on light feet.

  The cellar was cool and slightly damp. The sound of his footsteps echoed against the concrete walls, only slightly muffled by the shelves of fabric against the walls. Yellow light reflected back at him from floor tiles, and it almost felt wrong how clean everything were despite the obvious ominous atmosphere. 

  It didn’t help that the very moment he felt his feet on the floor, the trapdoor above him dropped shut.

  “Nice,” he said to himself for comfort. “Very nice.”

_ “Thank you.” _

  His heart skipped a beat, he was 100% sure of it, and he spun around to see where the voice had come from.

  There was a worktable, some rolls of fabric, an unlit lamp hanging from the roof, and no more. Just darkness.

  Apollo swallowed. Darkness wasn’t his territorium, but he didn’t dare to shine brighter, in case it would startle his unknown host. Hospitality, after all, went both ways. 

  “Who’s there?”

  “The owner of the store,” answered the voice. It was hoarse, like that of a woman that had smoked enough to make WHO quake in their books, and jazz artists swoon in extacy.

  “An honor to meet you. Ma’am?”

  “Miss. I never married.”

  “Ah. Miss then.” He tried his best to keep his voice steady and calm, but he did wish he had his bow ready in his hand. “I am here to ask for your services. As a tailor, I mean!” He thought it best to add that last part. Similar events had lead him in a lot of interesting situations over the years.

  And had gifted him a few extra children.

  “Tailor, right. I specialize in weaving, mostly. But I do all sorts of work with thread.”

  “O-oh?”

  In the darkness behind the desk, he saw something moving. Black hair glistened in the glow. Eyes opened, several of them, for Apollo to see his own reflection in. Legs, long, thin, spread out to cover the whole width of the room. 

  And soon, Apollo had to look up to follow the many mirrored images of himself. 

  “You, uh… You look… Good, Arachne! Did… uh… Did you put on weight- I mean! Grow! Taller! Yes! That thing!”

  “Oh, you noticed!” Arachne said with delight, her pinchers moving with every syllable. “Yes, I have grown quite a bit. I am sure Athena didn’t mean to make me immortal, but it came with the curse.”

  Apollo snuck a hand into the pocket of his jeans, hoping to pull out his phone to call for help, but Arachne noticed. In a slick (and slightly sick in all the wrong ways) move, she had twisted her abdomen and squirted out a thread of silk, straight for his hand.

_ “URG!” _

  “Nono, no phones. Not that I mind technology, the world wide web really is an amazing invention! But I can’t have you call out to any other Olympians about my whereabouts. And don’t you even consider teleporting. Places like this, lairs and caves filled with power, you know you won’t be able to escape with cheap tricks.” 

  Apollo shook his hand, but his phone was now completely stuck to it in a thick layer of silk.

  “You know,” he said, “Tom Holland was way more classy. Even Toby Maguire was more classy than this, and that says something.”

  “I was always more of a fan of Black Widow myself.”

  “You and Hermes both. Now, what’s your plan here? An epic battle of strength and cunning, or something like that?”

  Arachne laughed, or at least, Apollo assumed it was laugher. It was a series of clicks with her pinchers, and a creaky chuckle.

  “I do not often meet gods. Not for thousands of years! But an epic battle, in which we can test our immortality, yes, sounds good to me. I’ll go first.”

  And before Apollo had time to react, one of the many legs made direct contact with his ribs, and sent him crashing into the shelves.

  He groaned, and hoisted himself up. “Alright,” he huffed. “My turn.”

  In a flash of light his coat and scarf was traded for a chiton, and a wreath of laurels formed around his head. In his hand, he already held a bow, and he reached back to his quiver to draw an arrow. A plague arrow, he had decided, something to make the spider regret messing with him. A really good stomach flu, perhaps?

  Only to realize his phone was still wrapped to his hand. 

_ Dammit _ .

  “Oh, the little ray of sunshine can’t use his arrows? Too bad,” Arachne said, as if talking to a baby.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Apollo let go of his bow, and drew an arrow instead, holding it like a dagger. And when Arachne kicked again, he ducked, captured the leg using his restricted arm, and stabbed it.

  The spider shrieked, and changed her weight to bend her abdomen under her torso in order to point her rear end towards him. In the dim light he radiated, he could see the spinnerets. Not to mention, grooves and holes in her body, which moved as she breathed.

  He ducked again, and rolled out of the way for the new shot of silk. With this, he came closer, and tried to stab another leg, but Arachne moved out of the way.

  With a bit more effort, Apollo intensified his light , enough to make out his surroundings more clearly. While constantly on the move to avoid legs, shooting spider silk, and pinchers, he tried to come up with a plan. This would be a lot easier with some help, he decided.

  At the top of the wall, on street level, were a set of narrow windows, painted black to help the room escape the sunlight. If only the spider had not been standing between him and the wall…

  Apollo suddenly fell backwards, his legs tripping over something unexpected. But he didn’t fall to the floor, instead he crashed against the stairs. He had gotten disoriented during the fight, forgetting where the stairs were.

  And he got an idea. 

  He turned and climbed up the steps, and then, as Arachne launched for him, he jumped, landed on top of her back, slid down her abdomen, hit the floor, and used his momentum to jump-

  And with precision, he used his arrow to break one of the windows. 

  Cold, white light flowed in, and Arachne hissed. 

  Then, part two. 

  He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused all his energy on - well -  _ energy _ .

 The cellar was bathed in light, as if it had been midnight but someone had suddenly decided to trade it for midday. Arachne, who’s many eyes were habituated to the darkness, once again shrieked, and she lifted several of her legs to try to shield herself.

  As she did so, he launched against her now open underside, and jabbed his arrow into one of the holes in her abdomen - the opening to her lungs.

  But it was not enough. Now close enough to for her to attack in full, she gave up shielding her eyes in favour of grabbing him with several of her unharmed legs. Apollo felt himself spun around, the world turned upside-down, and soon he was spun up tight in spider silk.

  “There, little god! What do you think your sister, the mediocre Athena, would say if I told her I had you in my web! Even Ouranos could be wounded, wounded for eternity. What do you think, Phoebus, will your light fade if your insides crumble when injected with my venom?”

  From her pinchers, venom already dripped and fell on the spider silk that kept Apollo tightly secured. The silk fizzed and hissed and smoked.

   Then, from upstairs, they heard commotion. And soon, the trapdoor of the basement flung open, and Hermes came flying down, his caduceus with Fido and Rodney at the ready. The borrowed biker jacket and the beanie was swapped for his traveller’s cloak and wide-brimmed hat.

  “‘Sup, dude- woha!”

  Behind him came Dionysus, clad in a purple robe and a leopard skin. The amethyst around his neck glowed, and in his hand, he bore a staff topped with a pine cone.

  “We saw the light through the basement window! And- Man, you alright there?”

  Apollo blinked. Arachne didn’t have eyelids, and just stared.

  “Guys,” Apollo said, calmly. “If you wouldn’t mind? I’m a bit  _ tied up here? _ ”

  “And you are sure you didn’t just come across a local underground BDSM club? Happened to me once.” Hermes suggested. 

  Dionysus hit him on the head with his staff.

  “You get Pollo loose-”

_   “Told you to stop calling me that.” _

  “-while I focus on the spider.”

  And with that simple order, the ground started to shake.

  The concrete floor cracked as roots and vines shot up from the ground underneath. They grew at rapid speed, and intertwined themselves around the body of Arachne. She hissed, and tried to rip the roots up by - well - their roots, naturally turning out to be impossible. Some of the thinner vines snapped, but she had to rely on her pinchers to rip the larger ones over. In her distress, she dropped Apollo to the ground. With no means to ease his own landing, he hit his head against the now cracked floor with a sound that surely would have indignated a serious concussion with a mortal. Despite his own sturdiness, Apollo instantly felt motion sick and his vision flimmered. Through the static, he saw Hermes bending over him.

  “I’ve got a Leatherman, hold on!”

  With a knife no longer than his middle finger, Hermes started cutting Apollo free from the silk. 

  “Hurry up!” shouted Dionysus from somewhere.

  “I am, I am,  _ I am _ !” 

   Soon, Apollo was able to move just enough that he could help fight against the silk, ripping over threads already weakened by Hermes’ knife. Then, he felt the blade accidentally cut his thigh, and golden ichor dripped down his skin in a warm trail.

  “Careful!”

  “You’re  _ welcome! _ Now do something!”

  His legs were shaky, but he got up on his feet and drew a new arrow. This time, he used it to cut his other hand free of his phone.

  “Your bow, man,” Hermes said, handing him his discarded weapon. He took it without hesitating, nocked a plague arrow, and aimed for Arachne’s soft abdomen.

  The disease was instant. Arachne started coughing, her legs shook, and she stopped struggling against the roots and vines. Soon, she looked somewhat similar to what Apollo had just minutes ago - wrapped up tight with no visible limbs outside of her bondage.

  The adrenaline faded, and suddenly, Apollo felt drenched. He fell to his knees, but before he thobbled over completely, Hermes was there to catch him. 

  “You’re almost drained. You need to recharge. Here, dude, eat some ambrosia.”

  Apollo didn’t even bother to hold the piece he was offered himself, just allowed Hermes to stuff a mouthful through his lips. He was ready to sleep, he decided. Just last night, he had put fresh covers on his bed, and he longed to crawl back underneath them. But he couldn’t, not yet. So he focused on chewing, and then on drinking whatever he was offered. It wouldn’t last long, he wasn’t nearly as worn out as Hermes feared, but it did take several minutes for the energy from the ambrosia and nectar to get released into his body so he could sit up on his own accord and consider the scene.

  Dionysus was sitting in the stairs, chewing on his own piece of ambrosia. He had bags under his eyes now, tired from holding Arachne down, but it wasn’t bad. Things like this was never as bad as it seemed. It was the sudden drop of adrenaline that was the worst - going from energized to calm could be a real shitty rollercoaster.

  Arachne was watching them, but she didn’t try to fight. Her eyes were watering, and her breathing was shaky. 

  “What did you do to me?”

  Apollo shrugged. “Just a bad case of the flu. A really bad one. You’ll be fine in a week or so, just stay hydrated.”

  “Tell me,” said Hermes, “is this who I think it is?”

  “It’s not Black Widow-”

  “I knew  _ that! _ ”

  “Then yes, probably. Help me up.”

  Hermes stood and offered Apollo his arm, and they walked up to face Arachne. 

“Tell me, what did you think you could gain from fighting an Olympian,” Apollo asked, his voice calm, but stern. “A reverse of your curse? You should know, no one can lift your curse but Athena herself.”

  “Why would I want that, to go back to only one set of hands?” Arachne said, her voice now even hoarser than it had been. “This business is growing! My products are considered to be of the highest quality!”

  “Really?”

  Arachne hissed, but then, shrunk in on herself, going limp. 

  “I suppose… I suppose I wished.” Arachne shuffled in her bonds. “I’ve been given a proposal from a possible business partner. My assistants, they have been managing it as well as they can, but sometimes, I should have been there in person. I  _ wanted _ to be there in person. This body was a curse, but I’ve learned to use it for the better. Yet, it can only take me so far. I had to decline.”

  Arachne sighed, a hurting wheeze. “I’ve learned to live like this, but immortality has its curses. I am sure you can relate. There is no change for me, not any more. I’ve stagnated. The same life for decades, centuries. The world changes around me, I try to keep up as best I can, but there are limits for me. It doesn’t get worse, but it doesn’t get better either. I thought, this new contract I was given, that it might be the beginning of something new, for the first time in ages.”

  Apollo felt his brother’s eyes on him, but he tried not to take notice. 

  He  _ could  _ relate.

  “I can not undo Athena’s curse on you.  _ But _ I can  _ bend _ it. It’s not too different from bending light. I will grant you a deal, call it a Cinderella deal, if you so wish. Every seventh day, for seven hours only, you may have your human body back. A trick of the light, manipulation of mist. But it will work.”

  If Dionysus and Hermes had anything against it, they didn’t speak up. The only reaction in the room was the spider lifting her head.

  “It will?”

  “Remember, I can take this gift back. If I find out you are misusing it. If I find out you are not worthy of it. And so can Dionysus or Hermes, because I will need their powers too.”

  Hermes and Dionysus nodded, their faces didn’t show any other emotion but determination.

  “Of… Of course.”

  “Not today, we need full energy for it. We will return in a week, we will keep our promise. And I want something in return.”

 

It was still snowing that evening, when Apollo walked up to the regular gym. Big neon letters - ‘Agoge Fitness Center’ - blinked in the early twilight. Considering Hermes was one of the stakeholders, he wondered if he had helped decide the name.

  For the seventh time, Apollo checked his phone. Any time now.

  The doors opened, and Oliver came out, huddled in a military jacket and a red scarf, and carrying a leather messenger bag. His breath formed into a thin mist in the cooling air.

  In that moment, Apollo didn’t hate the snow so much. Light flakes glittered in the air around Oliver, and in the quiet created by the heavy cover on the ground, Apollo could hear his footsteps. 

  He waited, just a moment longer, before stepping forward and raising an arm.

  “Hey!”

  Oliver stopped and his eyes grew a bit wider at the sight of Apollo. “Hi? I mean,  _ hey _ . Apollo.”

  It was as he had thought - the military jacket wore several signs of having been mended over and over again. And anyway, one could always use one thick and one thin jacket, right?

  “I just wanted to-”

  “I already know.”

  Apollo stared at Oliver. Seriously? Had he already guessed what the gift was, even before Apollo had presented it for him?

  “You cancelled our PT sessions. All of them.”

  Oh.

  “Yeah, I… Don’t take it the wrong way, I-”

  Oliver shrugged, but he didn’t look Apollo in the eyes. “I just found out, when I clocked out. If you have any constructive criticism on my work, I’ll take it, but-”

  “No, no no, it’s not… not that… I....  _ Here _ !” With slightly shaking hands, Apollo handed Oliver the wrapped up gift. “I don’t know what you celebrate, but you just open it whenever you want.”

  On instinct, Oliver took the present and studied it. “A… Christmas present?”

  “Or you know, whatever. We celebrate on the 21st. Happy Holidays!”

  “But…”

  “I thought it would be unprofessional, you know, if you were still my trainer. And I… I would like to invite you over again for New Years, we’re having a party.”

  A smile played at the corner of Oliver’s lips, shy and uncertain. He opened his mouth a couple of times, visibly trying to find the right words. Then, finally - 

  “I got you a gift too. I thought I’d see you tomorrow, for our session, but I brought it along today, just in case you were here.” From his bag, he pulled out a box, small enough to hold with one hand. When Apollo took it, his gloved fingers briefly touched Oliver’s, and he was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat. Good thing, he thought, that he was immune to mortal trivials such as heart-attacks. 

  “Thank you. You didn’t have to, you know.”

  “I know. I wanted to.”

  There was a quiet moment where Apollo could hear the snow fall around him. Oliver shuffled, then asked quietly. “Can I open it now?”

  Apollo nodded, and felt a grin form on his face. “Whenever you want!”

  Oliver opened it carefully, and Apollo praised himself for using a silk ribbon that could actually be opened easily without the use of scissors. He offered to hold the disregarded paper as Oliver pulled out the gift and held it up against the light.

  The black and creamy white silk of the bomber jacket reflected the light of the streetlamps, and the soft snowflakes instantly melted into small drops that eventually rolled off without being absorbed. Except on the embroideries. There the droplets disappeared and turned the irises and larkspurs of blues, pinks, and purples, into a deeper hue. On the back, a swan spread out its wings, surrounded by the same bouquet of flowers that decorated the sleeves and chest. 

  “Wow.”

  “Is that a good  _ wow _ , or a  _ fuck, now I have to lie and pretend I like it-wow _ ?”

  Oliver grinned, even wider than Apollo. “It’s beautiful. Wait, here, hold this, would you?”

  Apollo struggled to balance disregarded wrapping paper, the messenger bag, and the worn military jacket, but he didn’t complain as he watched Oliver put on the new jacket. 

  “A bit cold for this weather, probably. I should have given you a scarf instead, huh? But I knew it would look good on you, and-”

  A warm hand on his shoulder made him shut up and enjoy the moment in its fullest. The jacket was the perfect size, the flowers matched the purple in his eyes, and his smile was that one last thing that made it all work.

  “Thank you.” 

  For a second, Apollo wondered if now was the time. But no, not just yet. Soon, maybe. But not right now.

  “Would you be interested in grabbing a bite before you head home? There is a pizza place right around the corner.”

  Oliver licked his lips, which seemed dry and cracked in the cold. “Yeah. Sounds nice. As long as I’m allowed olives?”

  Apollo laughed. “Of course. I never say no to olives on pizza. As long as you don’t complain about me having pineapple on mine?”

  “Mmm, I might have to reconsider after all.”

  “I’ll pay.”

  “Then I promise not to complain  _ as much _ .”

  They walked, side by side. The snow fell around them. 

  “You’re warm,” Oliver said. His voice was soft and quiet. Apollo noticed that he had moved in closer, the gap between them not as wide.

  The weather wasn’t that bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually once wrote a longer article for Uni about spiders and the possible use of spiders against insect pests in isolated agricultural plots. (It is not as effective as one had hoped, sorry to say, but spiders are still cool.) I once owned a spider named Kåre, BTW. Ah, Kåre. Thy slender legs, thy watchful eyes, may thy rest in piece (aka. in that box I have you in with a needle through your thorax, so I can show you off to people and freak them out)


	14. Three Gods and a New Years Party - Part 1: Apollo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Years, parties, kisses at midnight.  
>  What could possibly go wrong?  
>  Except, you know, sudden prophecies, text messages from your current FWB, and the statement "Who the fuck invited Eris?"  
>  Part one of 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following three chapters are of the same evening, from the POV of each of the brothers. For the sake of the reader and the story, I should clear out the timeline for Dionysus in my (our*) version. The time before Semele became pregnant with Dionysus will be made clear for the reader in time. Hera tricked Semele into making Zeus show her his godly form. This killed Semele, but Zeus (in some stories, with the help of Hermes) cut the unborn Dionysus from her womb, and sewed him into his thigh. There, Dionysus finished his form. The baby was in risk of being found and killed by Hera, so Zeus had Hermes pass Dionysus around from foster family to foster family. There have been several versions of who raised Dionysus as a child, and we have chosen to take it as if he was raised by several, going from hand to hand. For the sake of the story, I’ve had Hera inflict her curse of madness on Dionysus in connection to his crusading and the meetings with Lycourgos and Pentheus, and I’ve had Dionysus end up with Cyrene (Rhea) in Phrygia after all of this. In some versions, it was Cyrene who finally cured him of his madness, who taught him her many crafts, and dressed him in the fashion of her region (Turkey). (This is perhaps connected to the stories of how Rhea took the heart of Zagreus to help restore him, as Cyrene was basically a different version of Rhea.) He was raised as an Olympian after his time with Cyrene. Later, he married Ariadne. When she died, he returned to the underworld, to retrieve both Ariadne and his mother Semele, and raised them to immortality.
> 
>   After all, isn’t the best thing about many conflicting myths being allowed to pick out the parts you like best?
> 
>  
> 
> (*Waves at the kids whose headcanons I am basing this whole thing on)

 

  “Tonight is the night!” Apollo announced as he carried a stack of pancakes out into the living room.

  “Partysgonnabenice,” Dionysus answered with a barely hearable mumble. He was snuggled up on a beanbag by the coffee table, concentrated on painting a leopard pattern on his nails with a tiny brush.

  “Not just the party.” The stack of pancakes was placed on the middle of the table, in reaching distance of all three. Hermes, who’s curly hair was still wet after his second shower after his second run that day, threw himself at them and tried to grab five in a go. Apollo slapped his hand away.

  “One at the time. You’re as greedy as when you were born.”

  Hermes shrugged. “I know what I want and I take it. And I suppose that’s what you’re referring to too? Something pretty handsome. Some _ one?” _

  “Midnight,” Apollo spread out his hands. “On the strike of 12-”

  “I think I’m gonna gag.”

  “It will be romantic. It will be kind of expected, so I don’t seem pushy-”

  “Daphne, anyone?”

  “We’ll be up on the roof, alone-”

  “I’ll plant gas bombs with timers there.”

  “I’ll just lean in-”

  “Dio, you hearing this shit?”

  “And it will wonderful.”

  “Dude.” 

  Dionysus looked up from his nails with an amused grin. “Herm, what do you have against romance and commitment anyway?”

  “Easy for you to say,” Hermes shrugged. “You and Ariadne are in an open relationship. You’re not tied down. You still have your orgies and-”

  “Hermes, eat your pancakes,” Apollo said, not too interested in hearing about  _ that  _ topic. Dionysus just chuckled, and went back to his nails. Apollo was pretty sure he heard a small  _ “damn right”  _ from him.

“But seriously!” Hermes exclaimed, falling back against the pillows on the couch. “How many people have you dated through the ages? You’ve done this hundreds of times! Literally!”

  Apollo just snorted, but his cheeks were heating up. “You are making it sound like I’ve never been single.”

  “I am going to make a calculated guess. Dio, you in?”

  “Are we counting one-night-stands, or is it only actual relationships?”

  “I say, they had to be dating.”

  “Guys, this really is stupid-”

  “I bet seven-hundred and seventeen.”

  “Nice, Dio. I am thinking, maybe one new date every second year? Let’s say one-thousand eight-hundred aaand… six?”

  “I am not going to confirm anything.”

  “And yet you’re not married,” Dionysus said, still mumbling due to his concentration.

_ “Anyway! _ Back to the task at hand? The party. I am going to make sure I have Oliver alone on the roof at midnight. If any of you see him roaming around alone right before then, just send him up, deal?” As he spoke, he caught himself fiddling with the new timepiece he was wearing. Hermes noticed, and gave him a look.

  “You’re  _ that _ nervous?”

  “A little bit.” 

  He looked back down at his wristwatch. The dial was blue and covered most, but not all of the surface, so he could see the gears turn underneath it. With a careful thumb, he caressed the wooden surfaces. Even the strap was made of links of wood. 

  Laurel wood. He would have recognized it anywhere. 

  “Betcha it was expensive. Maybe he stole it,” Hermes said.

  Dionysus finished his nails and gave them a fond look. “Not everyone steals everything, you know.”

  “I stole you that nail polish.”

  “And I thank you for it. May I paint yours?”

  “... What colour?”

  “Guys, come on, we have planning to do.”

  While Hermes inhaled pancakes and Dionysus waited for his nails to dry, Apollo found a notebook and a pen and started going through the tasks.

  “Drinks?”

  “All taken care of. With and without alcohol.”

  “And with and without Red Bull!”

  “Snacks?”

  “Getting it today.”

  “I can go get it!”

  “Fairylights?”

  “Do we really need more than the ones we already have?”   
  “I can get those too!”

  “More cups?”

  “Bought them yesterd-”

  “I’ll get them!”

  “Balloons?”

  “Not yet, but I bet Hermes wi-”

  “I’ll get those too!”

  Suddenly his notebook was ripped out of his hand. Hermes had stood and was taking a picture of the list for his phone. “I’ll get whatever we’re out of.” And he threw Apollo his notebook back.

  “But, Hermes. You don’t have to-”

  “Send me a text if you need anything else, alright!” Hermes was already putting on his jacket and shook his slippers so they transformed into sneakers. “It’s no bother, not at all, just call me up. Dio, nail polish when I get home. Bye!”

  And just like that, he had closed the door and was gone.

  Apollo blinked, unsure of what had actually just happened. “Is it just me, or is Hermes more energetic than usual?”

  “He basically just came back from his run. His  _ second _ run.”

  “Let’s try to keep him to the Red Bull tonight, deal?”

  “Mhm.”

  It came to him that none of his brothers were all there today. Dionysus had returned to staring at his nails, even though they were done and still drying. The fondness had died, and now he just seemed tired.

  “Hey, are you up for tonight?”

  “Of course.” But there was no actual enthusiasm in it. Instead, he rose and stretched. “You know, I think I am going to go and pick out an outfit for tonight, since Hermes is doing most of the work.” 

  “Okay?” 

  Apollo watched Dionysus disappear into his room, and he was left with a feeling of trying to put together a puzzle with only one third of the pieces.

 

  They had solved it all in the best ways possible.

  Mrs. Freud was not at home. Eleanor had promised that she was spending time with her aunt that day, and that Mrs. Freud would then spend the night at Eleanor’s parents. Eleanor herself would come after dinner with her family.

  Three other apartments were having parties. In other words, there was just one big party, with the doors open, welcomed for everyone to mix and walk in and out of each other’s places. That way, space wasn’t as much of a problem anymore.

  Apollo had claimed the roof for his own, accepted by all party hosts because he had bribed them with insane amounts of free alcohol, courtesy of his brothers.

  Some started arriving shortly after eight thirty. First was Artemis, followed by a small group of hunters.

  “Apollo, you know most of my hunters. But this is Brielle,” said Artemis and gestured for a young woman to approach. “She will be the newest addition to the Hunt, when she has said her vows. We are just waiting for the next full moon to complete our ritual.” 

  Apollo took the woman’s hand. “Good to meet you. I am sure you will find a good place in my sister’s party.”

  She grinned, visibly excited for her upcoming immatriculation. “I am sure I will. These past weeks, trying out with them, I’ve never felt more at home.”

  “I hear many say that. And my sister is a wonderful teacher.”

  The group settled in the bean bags, and Hermes immediately showed up to chat and offer drinks. 

  There were the muses, who also liked to arrive early to ensure good music was playing from the very beginning. Every single one of them gave Apollo a kiss at the door, and he spent most of the evening catching up with them.

  After nine, more people showed up. There was Cecil, a friend Dionysus had invited over a few times for videogames. Ariadne came, and she and Dionysus retreated to the balcony. Apollo closed the curtains on them, just to give them a bit of privacy. 

  Aphrodite came fashionably late, as usual, only an hour until midnight, and - again as usual - followed by Ares. More mortals, various personal friends and friends of neighbours who had recommended they meet all of the hosts. A few nymphs.

  The big surprise of the evening was Eris, whom Apollo suddenly took notice of. She was throwing darts with Ares, and the two were laughing over some probably bloody and gruesome inside joke. Her hair was black, but her tips were dyed red, the same colour as her eyeliner and lipstick. She wore a leather jacket with spikes that were way too long to be practical. 

   As Hermes passed, Apollo gestured for him to come over.

  “Did we invite Eris, or did she tag along with Ares?”

  Hermes looked sheepish. “I did. Ran into her when I was shopping earlier. Then again, haven’t we learned it’s better to invite her than  _ not _ to?”

  Apollo nodded in agreement, and Hermes moved along to chat with someone else. He was unusually active this evening, Apollo thought. It seemed no one were able to stand with an empty can of beer of glass of whatever without Hermes suddenly being there and offering a refill.

  Eris and Ares were still throwing darts with an enthusiasm that was almost deadly for anyone close by. As Ares took a stance to throw, Eris moved her attention from him to Apollo.

  It felt as if someone had punched him in the gut.

  Eris’ eyes were black, pupil and iris seemingly one. She grinned, showing off unnaturally pointy teeth. 

  The edge of his vision started to spark and crumble. 

  He shook his head and had a sip of the beer.

  When he lowered his can, his eyes found someone new and much more interesting than Iris, and Apollo excused himself to the muses. 

  Oliver stood in the hallway, in a maroon shirt and the new bomber jacket. He was smiling as Apollo made his way to him.

  “Hey! How was your holiday?”

  Oliver put his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Nice. Quiet. Thanks for coffee the other day.”

  “You’ve been so busy at work this month, I thought you could use a pick-me-up.”

  Suddenly, Hermes was there, handing Oliver a beer. 

  “Dude, good to see you! There is punch in the kitchen, you just holla at me, I’ll get you a cup. And nice work with that wristwatch, he keeps checking the time every five minutes, I tell you! Have fun, you two.” And with that, Hermes was gone again, surely pouring punch for someone.

  The whole scene was so quick, Apollo wasn’t sure it had actually happened. Oliver too stood, perplexed and blinking. Then he regained his bearings, and smiled.

  “You liked the gift?”

  Apollo felt like glowing, but he controlled himself.

  “Yeah. Yeah, a whole lot! It’s beautiful.”

  “You’re blushing, so I’ll take that as a good sign.”

  His cheeks felt steadily warmer, but he was starting to get goosebumps down his back. 

  Oh gods, he had it bad. He tried to hide his embarrassment with a chuckle. A quick look at his watch told him it was already half past eleven.

  The sparks at the corner of his vision were getting more intense, as if it had lit up the fireworks half an hour early. His mind had begun to feel light, as if he was getting drunk. 

  Well, fuck.

  “Apollo, are you okay?”

  His mouth felt dry. Back-up plan.

  “Five minutes to midnight.”

  “No, it’s only half past eleven? Is the watch broken already?”

  “I mean-” Apollo swallowed, and mustered a whole lot of energy to look normal, happy, and interested. “Meet me on the roof five minutes before midnight. If you want to?”

  He started walking backwards, still watching Oliver to see his reaction.

  Oliver’s eyes widened, then he looked away and bit his lip, which were twitching in order to form a smile.

  “Alright. See you then?”

  Half on him wanted to kiss Oliver right there and then and laugh, the other part was ready to faint.

  “See you!”

  Apollo darted into the kitchen, from where he heard Artemis’ voice. It sucked having to ditch on Oliver already, but it sucked way worse to try to keep this thing under control. 

  He grabbed Artemis’ arm a little harder than expected, and she winced, but when she turned to look at him, her expression immediately changed.

  “What’s wrong.”

  “Prophecy.”

  “Again? Didn’t that happen at the last party too? Are you sure you are not allergic to beer.”

  “Funny. Help me.”

  His knees buckled, and Artemis and one of her hunters grabbed him.

  “You’ll need a channel. Brielle! Come, take over for Hilde.”

  The three hurried out of the kitchen, crossed the hall as quick as they could, and got out into the hallway.

  “Roof,” suggested Apollo, and they made it for the stairs.

  The cold winter air felt freezing against his feverish skin, and Apollo shuttered. He was suddenly very grateful for the many heating lamps and fairy lights, and, well,  _ magic _ he had used to make the roof warm and cozy despite it being the middle of the night in the middle of winter.

  “Prop him up against the picnic table,” Artemis ordered. Soon, Apollo was on the ground, his back rested against a bench. His breathing had become shallow and quick, unsatisfying in his lungs.

  “What is wrong with him?”

  He wanted to explain, but instead only watched as Artemis grabbed Brielle by the shoulders. 

  “My brother is having a prophecy. He can handle it himself if it is just a minor one, lottery tickets and such, but for the most part, he will need a channel. Back in the days, he had oracles, ready and prepared any time for him to channel his prophecies. These days, his prophecies are much more rare, and he is an idiot who has not found a permanent oracle to help him out when he gets one that is too heavy for him to deal with it alone.  Brielle, if you are comfortable with it, we need a mortal to help him. You’ve not yet taken your vows. You’re still very much mortal. Will you help?”

  Brielle opened and closed her mouth. She looked from Artemis to Apollo, and Apollo did his best  _ not _ to look scary or weird, even though he felt like he had accidentally poked himself on a plague arrow.

  Brielle drew a deep breath and straightened her back.

  “Okay. Alright. Tell me what to do.”

  That was all Apollo needed. A mind had been opened somewhere in the emptiness between souls. When he closed his eyes, he could see it, like seeing a sun, a star, through the space of a solar system. He could feel it, warm and open, and he reached out and let his own mind give in.

  From afar, across the solar system, he heard her voice, the sound waves traveling through an atmosphere they had created together.

 

“Flowers, he has been.

Antheus, he has been.

Man, he is again.

Lyaneus, he become again.

Undead, he has become.

Oma’dius, he will become.

The dead has returned.

The dead again return.

 

His resurrection was his fate.

The necromancer is hate.

The necromancer is a lover.

The horned hunter.

They walk together again.”

  
  


She fell, but Artemis caught her. 

  “There, there, you did good, Brielle. You did wonderful.”

  Brielle nodded, and she seemed pleased, but tired. “That was… incredible. It was… as if my mind went blank. I saw… I saw stars.”

  Apollo, on the other hand, just felt sick. He closed his eyes again and waited for the world to balance out. 

  Something was put into his hand, and Artemis commanded “Eat.”

  So he ate, and it helped. Through a blur, he head Artemis command Brielle to do the same. “Proteinbar for you. You’re not immortal - yet.”

  They sat for a long time in silence, and finally the world returned to normal. Apollo opened his eyes, and yawned. Brielle did the same.

  “I believe I should have the other hunters get you home, Brielle. You need to rest. Go back down to them, tell them I told them to choose one to escort you back to camp.”

  Artemis helped Brielle stand, made sure she was able to walk on her own, and showed yet another proteinbar into her hand. 

  “Thank you, Apollo,” Brielle said before heading back downstairs. 

  Apollo sighed. “I hope she doesn’t get addicted to this. I’ve had oracles who become obsessed with prophecies.”

  “She won’t. She is just an open soul, she finds joy in many things.” Then Artemis turned her focus back to him. “That prophecy, though?”

  With more effort than he thought it should have taken him, Apollo got up just enough to sit on the bench. Artemis handed him a small hipflask.

  “Nectar. Drink.”

  He took it without question, and drained it in one go. Artemis sat down next to him, and took back the empty flask.

  “The names mentioned,” Apollo said and wiped his mouth. “They are familiar.”

  “I think I know who it might be about,” said Artemis. Apollo met her eyes.

  She was staring at him, determined and unblinking. 

  “Why did you come here, Apollo.”

  “You dragged me here.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  The lights reflected in the dark blue of her irises made him think of stars on a night sky. She didn’t do great here, in the artificial lights of the city, he though. He had seen her out there, in the forests and mountains, her whole body radiating as if reflecting distant sunlight. No electric light to steal the attention of her. 

  Here, she just looked mortal.

  He wondered if he did the same.

  The words of Arachne came back to him.

  “I couldn’t anymore. I couldn’t do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Pretend everything was fine. Walk the streets of Olympus, and pretend nothing has changed ever. Accepting that nothing really does change, ever.”

  “I am not sure I-”

  He reached out, suddenly, scared she would be as fake as the lights from the city. But they weren’t fake at all, not to him. They were more real than torches in palaces and marble in temples. Her hand was cool under his. Suddenly, he was no longer tired, even though the aftermath of the prophecy has scrambled his understanding of reality, just a little.

  “If you could choose,” he said, in a whisper, “to be on Olympus in your palace with servants, or to be in the woods with your hunters. Where would you be.”

  Artemis snorted, not startled at all by his theatrics. He supposed she was too accustomed to him. “What kind of question is that? The woods, of course!”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “It’s just more…  _ me _ .”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh.” She moved her hand, so that she could squeeze his. “I think… okay.”

  “When I am here, I feel more  _ real _ , Artemis. Less empty. Down here, things keep changing. Their lives are short, but that means it’s so full of consecrated life! I just wanted to be a part of that. The past century or so, I’ve felt pulled more and more to the mortal world. When I am on Olympus, I have nightmares. I can’t sleep. All I do is walk the same old routines and attend meetings and pretend time hasn’t moved at all for the past few thousand years. But when I am  _ here _ !”

  He threw his free arm out. 

  “Here, I am just one of the many! In all the best ways! So many people to interact with, so many parties and concerts and book readings! The company it… it helps.”

  Artemis shuffled and sat close to her brother. She let go of his hand, in offer for throwing her arms around him and leaning his head on her shoulder. Apollo on his part, snuck his now free arm around her waist and hugged her back. 

  “We are both trapped on Olympus,” he said, much more calm now that he felt she had understood. “The cities, this apartment, that’s my woods.”

  “Then, is Hermes and Dionysus your hunters?” Artemis joked, and Apollo huffed.

  “Something like that.”

  They sat in silence for a while, and listened to the distant music and chatter from the apartment underneath them. Time still didn’t make 100% sense, and for a moment, he thought they were kids again, sitting on a beach on an island, comforting each other. Just when Apollo was sure his arm was falling asleep, Artemis straightened.

  “Apollo? Did you say you had been having nightmares?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing new. Same old. As I said, it helps being here.”

  “About-”

  “Asphodel. Blood. Stormwinds.  _ Him _ . All the fun stuff.” Apollo did his best to be nonchalant about it, but when he looked to his sister, he felt uncertain afterall. Her eyes had narrowed and there was a deep frown between her brows. 

  “The past century, you say?”

  “Yeah but-”

  The door to the stairway opened, and out came the one person Apollo actually didn’t mind interrupting his heart-to-heart talk with Artemis. 

  Oliver stopped in the doorway and took a step back.

  “Oh, sorry. Was I interrupting you?-”

  “No, not at all,” said Artemis as she stood. “Your presence is actually perfect right now. Apollo.” She nodded at him, and he smiled back. “We’ll talk later.”

  “But, the… thing?”

  “ _ This _ ,” and she nodded very slightly towards Oliver, “might help you solve it.”

  Apollo couldn’t really decipher the look she gave Oliver. It was stern and determined, and didn’t last more than a couple of seconds. Oliver moved for her, and she closed the door to the stairway behind her.

  “Are you sure I didn’t interrupt something?” 

  “I think we were done talking. It seems Artemis thought so, at least.”

  He dared take a quick glance at his watch. Three minutes.

  Oliver sat down next to him, and started fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. 

  Downstairs the music was turned down ever so slightly.

  “Good party?” Oliver asked, then sat ut straigher. “I mean! Good party! No question.”

_ Good party? _

_   Apparently you’ve never been to an Athenian party. _

_   I should take that as an insult. My father is the host. _

  “I am not a sore host, but thank you. I hope you managed without me for a spell?”

  It seemed he still hadn’t balanced out completely after the prophecyl. Time felt…  _ less real. _ .

  “I had hoped to actually spend some more time with you this time than the last, but maybe we get the chance to make up for that now?”

_ Host, you say. Then I am sorry for my insolence, prince.  _

_   Haven’t we seen each other before? _

  “Unless I turn into a pumpkin in a few minutes?”

  “Or a sunflower? Wouldn’t that fit you better, taking your name into consideration. But I am sure you would make a decent pumpkin too, if you so wished.”

_ I am just an ambassador. No-one important. _

_   No, no. I saw you, on the hillside. I was… _

_   Playing sheperd? _

__ “If I am a pumpkin, are you the shepard dressing up as a prince, then?”

  “More like the personal trainer dressing up as… I don’t know. How are you feeling, by the way?”

_ Playing… I… no. I… A prince of Sparta should know all of the traits of his people. _

_   Your society depends on slaves. Being a herdsman, that is slave work in this land, is it not? _

  A quick glance at his time piece again. 30 seconds. __

  “Uh… Better? Kind of.”

__ “The same happened last time, didn’t it? Maybe you are actually allergic to beer?”

__ “Artemis suggested the same. I call Bullshit.”

_   I was… If you must know. I was helping out a friend.  _

_   You are good at the flute. _

_   Thank you? _

__ 15 seconds.

  “Maybe you are allergic to fun?”

  “Maybe you are allergic to… to…”

  “Come on, don’t give up now. Wasn’t Apollo a god of poetry or something. Surely, you can’t get tongue tied.”

_ Wait, if you are an ambassador. What were you doing there? _

_   Would you believe me if I said I crash landed my sun chariot? _

_   Would it be odd if I said ‘no’? _

__ Ten seconds. __

That was the moment when Apollo had planned on kissing him. He had planned on closing his eyes and closing the distance. 

  Five.

  But Oliver smelled of olive oil and flowers, and Apollo knew that if he did so, his mind would be elsewhere, and he would be kissing a memory.

  Three.

  Somewhere else, sometime else, somewhere still parallel to right now in the universe that was Apollo’s still unbalanced understanding of the world, he kissed Hyacinthus for the first time. 

  Two.

  Oliver seemed to catch onto the atmosphere, though. Quickly, before Apollo had fully made up his mind about what to do, Oliver put his hand against Apollo’s mouth.

  “No.”

_ One. _

  The two sat for a moment, both equally perplexed and calm. Oliver’s eyes were wide and deep purple. The glow of the city were reflected in them, and Apollo felt a case of deja-vu. From all over the were shouts of joy, and, surely, thousands of people kissing.

  Oliver’s hand was warm. Something deep inside of Apollo felt angry that his hand was so gentle and soft against his lips. 

  He was angry at himself. Angry that still, even through months of getting to know Oliver, he still saw parallels.

  “Not… not like this. We need to talk.” Oliver’s voice was small and fragile. He swallowed, and Apollo could hear how his breathing had turned uneven and shaky. There were more stars in his eyes now. “I don’t want to… to  _ trick _ you into-”

  “Apollo, I need you to take care of something! Your neighbour- oh.  _ Oh! _ ”

  In the door for the stairway stood Artemis, her mouth slightly open. Her eyes darted between the two. Oliver took his hand off Apollo’s mouth.

  “It’s not… I didn’t… I haven’t…”

  But Artemis put up her hand to silence him.

  “We can talk later. Apollo, your neighbour, she is causing a scene,  _ again _ . No one knows where Dionysus or Hermes or Eleanor has gone off to, but they sure as Hades ain’t here to take care of her.”

  Apollo let go of some powerful old Greek curses he usually saved to dire situations, you know, like when you’re getting sexually frustrated, but angry old hags and old hearth break wounds fucks up your date. To his surprise, Oliver’s eyebrows shot up, as if reacting to the things he had just said about someone’s sexual preferences to goats. 

  “Apollo!” Artemis said, her voice stern. “Just come on down and do your big-brother thing!”

  “Yeah, yeah. Oliver, later?” 

  Oliver nodded, and didn’t move from his spot as Apollo followed Artemis downstairs.

 

Mrs. Freud’s cheeks were now bright red from all the yelling. The music had stopped, a handful of people were actually leaving down the stairs or shuffling into the elevator. Others, mostly residents of the apartments downstairs, were just huffing and talking amongst themselves. Several was standing in the hall, watching as a few of the neighbours were trying their best to calm the elderly woman. It didn’t seem to work. Instead, it seemed Mrs. Freud got more and more energetic as she yelled at them. 

  “I am sorry, Mrs. Freud, but Ellie said you weren’t home this weekend and-”

  “You know damned well I don’t want this kind of  _ noise _ here! I came straight home when I knew something was up and-”

  “Wait, you came back even though you knew we had a party, just so you could shout at us?”

  “Of course I did! Now get all of these people out of here!”

  Someone in the crowd shouted “ _ Okay, boomer! _ ” which was followed by a whole lot of snickering. It made Mrs. Freud stop to think for a second, but even though she clearly didn’t get the joke, she still managed to get back on the task at hand.

  “This kind of spectacle is simply unnecessary and-”

  “You are absolutely right, Mrs. Freud.”

  Apollo made sure his voice rang clear and deep. This time, he didn’t have Hermes to get them out of the problems with his cunning. He would have to rely on his goodly authority. 

  “This is fully unnecessary. There should be no need for us to have an unfriendly discussion in a hallway.” Adrenaline and anger stirred in him, and with his back straight and shoulders squared, he walked right past Mrs. Freud and straight to her door. He opened it, and stared at her, allowing her to make the next move, and daring her to do anything but the right one. 

  He had cornered her, and they both knew. An unstoppable force and an immovable object, and the only thing that would make them both look good would be to take him up on the offer.

  With a grunt, she crossed the hallway. “I’ll be calling the police on you.”

  “No you won’t,” Apollo whispered, making sure the crowd didn’t hear him. “The only officer you are willing to call is gods-know-where doing gods-know-what with my brother. Get in, and I’ll make us both a cup of tea.”

 

  Mrs. Freud’s apartment was actually… cozy? He had expected a whole lot more torture devices and sacrificial knives. But there were soft couches and armchairs, and china with flower patterns, and a whole lot of pictures covering the walls. He tried not to linger, but walked straight into the kitchen. There was an electric kettle next to the stove that he filled with water and turned on, and an old tin box with teabags. Behind her, he heard Mrs. Freud huff, but he also heard the creaking of an armchair as she sat down. 

  He felt tense, ready to fight, but also calm and sure of himself. Sure, he had a knack for the theatrics, but he knew when to be stoic and reasonable. Calmly, he placed two cups of tea on the coffee table and sat down in the velour sofa. Both of them picked up their respective cups, and nipped the tea. 

  Sitting there, Apollo took his time to fully take in her whole apartment. The colours were different than expected - all yellows, mustard, reds and orange, with green plants in every corner. It didn’t have that old-apartment smell that comes from dusty furniture and old cigarettes. Instead, it smelled like citrus and cookies. He wondered if perhaps the Mrs. Freud Eleanor knew was quite different from the Mrs. Freud he knew. 

  Different epithets, you could say. Perhaps the person he knew from the hallway was Mrs. Freud, but the woman who lived here was more like a… He remembered the name next to her doorbell.

  “Beatrice. Right?”

  There was a twitch in the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t speak up. She seemed a lot more calm and reasonable in her own home. Through the walls, he could hear the faint sound of music, and he wondered whether they had turned it almost all the way down, or if the walls were actually that thick.

  Knowing the muses, he assumed the second.

  Apollo finished his tea, and stood. Beatrice was still nipping at hers, and he could feel her eyes on him as he moved around her living room. 

  There really were an astounding amount of photographies, drawings, and art on the walls. He found crayon pictures marked with dates far back, even some with “Eleanor” written in multicoloured letters. Here and there were oil paintings and aquarelles, all wearing one of a few recurring signatures. Several of the framed pictures were from the 70s and 80s, of Beatrice and a second woman on holidays all over the world. 

  “Family?”

  “Partner,” Beatrice answered, short and simple.

  “She’s not around anymore?”

  “No.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She died.”

  Of course. He felt stupid. There was not a single picture of the woman where she was any older than maybe 35. 

  “She got sick, thirty years ago now. It didn’t take long.”

  Apollo picked up a picture and looked at it. The woman was grinning widely, holding a teddy bear she had won. She seemed to be at Tivoli in Copenhagen, based on the rides behind her. He had been there so many times, he could easily tell this was taken in the 80s.

  “She looks like a very joyful person.”

  “She was,” Beatrice confirmed. “Lucy was probably as happy a person as one can be. She was the center of any party.”

  “Party?” Apollo looked at the aging woman. So stern and straight, he hadn’t been able to picture her participating in anything remotely fun. But here, on her wall, was the very proof that his impression of her had been wrong. 

  “Oh, she loved a good party. She looked like a proper girl, cute and polite. But she knew how to let loose. She got me into heaps of trouble, I’ll tell you that.” 

  There was a smile in the corner of her mouth now. 

  “Once, when we were in high school, she made me sneak out so we could go to the movies together. I got caught, of course. I wasn’t allowed out of the house after six for half a year. Not that it stopped her. She just snuck herself in instead. We had a lot of secret sleepovers.” The smile had spread to her eyes now, making them wrinkle in a very flattering way. Her whole being seemed different, somehow, like she had an inner light that had just been turned off every time they had met. Yeah, this wasn’t Mrs. Freud anymore. He was sure this was just Beatrice.

  “I had the impression you hated such things?”

  Her light flickered and her face fell. “I…” Then she cleared her throat. “It isn’t much fun without her. I am always reminded that she is not there. I suppose… I suppose when you boys moved in, it just made it worse. She would have liked you. Eleanor sure likes your brother, so...”

   Suddenly, he felt guilty. Not for having fun, but for thinking of their neighbour as an obstacle to be fought. For considering her to be a stick-in-the-mud, instead of someone who perhaps had a reason to reach the way she did. 

  “You didn’t move on?”

  Beatrice stared out of the window. Her eyes were hard now, her light gone. “No,” she said.

  Apollo looked back at the smiling face of Lucy. 

  “She would want you to.”

  No answer.

  “Wouldn’t you have wanted her to, if it was the other way around.”

  Still no answer. 

  A human life was so short. His own grief had lasted a whole human life, and maybe more. But he was immortal, and had both the curse and the gift of time to help him move on. Beatrice was not so lucky. Most of her life had already passed, and soon she too would be gone, like so many others he had met.

  “I lost a lover too.” He looked at her, but there was no reaction, so he chose to talk to the picture in his hands instead.

  “It was a long time ago, but it feels like yesterday. He died in my arms. I won’t ever forget that. I did everything I could to heal him. I pulled every string, I talked to every go- specialist. I didn’t want him to go where I could not follow, and I wanted so bad to join him. But I couldn’t.”

  In the corner of his eye, he could see Beatrice shuffle in her chair, but she didn’t turn towards him. 

  “For years, I locked myself in. I refused to talk to anyone but my sister. It was as close to dead I could come without actually dying. It took me a long time to regain my senses. A little by a little, I was able to regain my strength and to put myself back together. Artemis helped, Hermes and Dio too. I realized, he would never have forgiven me if I had stayed that way. He would have been so mad at me.” Apollo huffed out a laugh. “I moved on. I had fun, I threw parties and sang again. I both fell in love and made love. None of them were like him, of course. But then again, not two loves are ever alike. Every single one have been something unique. Something precious. I will always remember them, all of them. But I also think about  _ him  _ every day. Every day, I wonder what would we do if he was still here. Would he want to go see the newest Marvel movie with me? Would he want to go for a ride? Would we just spend the day in bed? I don’t know. I just know he would never suggest I stay inside in the dark and want to die, like I did back then. I try to live my life to the fullest, and I refuse to feel guilty about it.”

  Apollo put the picture back on its place. 

  “Beatrice, if you want to, you are always welcome to visit us. And if you want to, you can join us on Friday, for a family dinner. Consider yourself invited. We start at seven. I will make sure we have an open chair for you.”

 

It simply felt right that Oliver was standing in the hall when he came out of Beatrice’s apartment. Somehow, it was as if he could feel the webbing of the Fates around them. It was just as it was supposed to be. He had grasped it, in the solar system between himself and Brielle.

  Oliver was leaning against the opposite wall, watching him with those dark eyes. So deep purple, it was almost black. 

  “I heard your speech.”

  “Oh.” Apollo felt himself drift closer. 

  “I have very keen hearing. I liked it. You are right.”

  “About what?” His voice came out dark and husky. Something had shifted between them, and he wasn’t sure what. He just knew that for once, they wouldn’t stop or be stopped.

  “I would never have forgiven you if you had not moved on. If you had not allowed yourself to be happy.”

  And before Apollo’s eyes, Oliver’s skin lightened to a deep, olive tan. His hair grew into soft corkscrew curls. His shoulders narrowed, making him leaner and thinner, but still with the body of a Spartan.

  But his eyes, they were still the same dark violet they had been so long ago.

  Without any further hesitation, Apollo closed the distance between them.

 

  It was as if being with Hyacinthus was a sort of muscle memory, because as they lay next to each other, if felt like they had never really been apart. Like hanging with a friend he hadn’t seen in ages, but falling into the same old routines without even having to try. Apollo had his arm around him, rubbing his lower back with his thumb. Hyacinthus sighed.

  “I have a knot there, I think.”

  “You almost always have.”

  Hyacinthus traced the patterns of Apollo’s tattoo, down the laurels and sunflowers, but just briefly touching the hyacinths, larkspurs, and irises.

  “This is new, though.”

  “I’ve had several. Perks of being a god. I get to test out the design without having to commit.”

  He didn’t comment, just hummed softly, as if it wasn’t news to him.

  The air was stuffy, and Apollo wanted to open a window, but he didn’t really want to move either. Then again, he knew the afterglow could not last forever. He would have to ask, and he was not sure if he wanted to hear the answers. 

  One thing at the time. Apollo sat up to stretch over to the window on his side of the bed and open it. There, then at least if he felt like he couldn’t breathe it wouldn’t be because of the actual lack of oxygen. Not that he could die anyway, but still.

  For a moment, he just sat and drew a few long breaths to clear his head and settle his heart. 

  “I suppose we should talk.”

  “We should,” Hyacinthus agreed, not moving from his spot on the ruffled bed.

  “Okay.” Apollo cleared his throat. “You are not dead.” It was a statement, not a question. Sure, he’d seen some weird stuff in his life, but he recognized a zombie when he saw one. First off, they were bad kissers, always kissing as if they were trying to eat your face. Secondly, they kept trying to actually eat your face, even when you told them not to. Boundaries were not a concept for them

  “No. I am not dead.”

  “But you  _ were _ dead. I know. I held you. I felt you die.”

  “True. I died, I went to the underworld. I stood before the judges and I saw the life I had lived.”

  His throat suddenly felt sore and dry. The muscles of his jaw and neck were tensing. 

  “Then how did you come back?”

  “I was resurrected.”

  It was obvious, logical even, yet the words rang in Apollo’s head and made him dizzy.

  “How? Who”

  “I am not sure. You, maybe, something you did that worked after all, perhaps.” Oh, he had tried. He really had. First, with any remedy and spell he could think off. Then, he had begged Hades to please, please let this one soul go. He had pleaded to Persephone and Thanatos. In the end, he had cried in his sister’s and brothers’ embrace.

  “When?”

  Hyacinthus hesitated for a moment, but didn’t break eye contact. 

  “About a hundred years ago.”

  That right there was such a blow to him, that Apollo suddenly found himself standing, walking, without the memory of getting out of bed.  

  “A hundred years?” He felt the words escape him, but was not fully aware that he had shaped them with his own mouth. 

  “More or less,” Hyacinthus winced.

  “I am not sure I understand.”

  “It took a while. I am not sure why or how, but it happened eventually. When I woke up, I… Everything was a blur, Apollo.”

   A blur. That summed it up nicely.

  “Why didn’t you… Why didn’t you come to me?” He was pacing now, and he knew it. He knew he was running his fingers through his hair and that he probably looked just as out of it as he felt. 

  “I’d been gone so long.” Hyacinthus’ voice was barely a whisper through Apollo’s mind. “I didn’t know if you still wanted me. Then I was uncertain whether it would even be a good idea for me to come rushing into your life again.”

  The thought, the very idea, of that being true was probably what finally had him burst. Literally burst. In every blood vessel, he could feel his ichor turn from golden liquid to burning light. The lines of his irises went from blue, to glowing cobber, to shining gold, and finally combusted at the very same moment and heartbeat that his burning ichor released its power. 

  Such an outburst should have been mortally painful for any human, and he knew it, but he also knew that those dark eyes would still be staring at him when he returned to his senses. He had felt it earlier, when puzzle pieces started falling into place underneath him in bed. The man sitting there, the man he had longed for and thought about every day for thousands of years, had changed into something new and more sturdy. This was no longer a human.

  Hyacinthus did not seem scared. Instead, he was watching Apollo with a look of worry and sadness. His eyes were shining. 

  “I am sorry.”

  Apollo fell down into his reading chair, collapsing from the sudden release of power. The atmosphere of the room had changed once again, and he could feel it flow through his body as well. Tired. Waiting. Uncertain. He leaned forward and hid his face in his hands. 

  “I wasn’t sure what to do,” Hyacinthus said, his voice and breathing calm, like he had imagined how to explain this a thousand times. So familiar in his speech, that such a thing as his lover going super-nova couldn’t scare his muscle memory from performing it. 

  “When I came to, I didn’t know where I were. I wandered, but everything was different. Greece had changed. The world had changed.  _ I  _ had changed. I wanted to find you, to find my family, my friends. It didn’t take long to realize that all of Sparta was long gone, and I thought that perhaps the gods had crumbled to ruins.” He let out a huff of laughter. “I even tried to find you at the top of Olympus, can you imagine. But even in this new state, the city was hidden from me. I decided to give it some time. Perhaps I would find a clue, perhaps you would hear me and find me. Surely, I would run into a god sooner or later. But time moves differently than I remember. A year turned to ten, then to thirty. I started thinking that maybe you would not want to see me, even if I did find you again.”

  Once more, to hear him say those words caused Apollo to stirr, and he looked up to stare at Hyacinthus. He kept his eyes on his hands, which were fiddling with the covers. At his neck, Apollo noticed a mark that he was probably the cause of. It looked good on him - still pink, but he knew it would turn into splotches of blue and purple. Like flower petals.

  “And I thought so for another ten, twenty, maybe thirty years. But then I felt selfish, because I wanted you to move on, of course I wanted you to move on, but still I wanted to reclaim you. I thought, perhaps it was better for you that I didn’t find you. That I let you be. Because how could things ever go back to the way they were? I had stopped looking for you, but now I tried to hide from you, I even changed the way I looked. I didn’t want you to find me, because I thought it would only cause you pain.”

  Hyacinthus smiled then, his teeth white, and his eyes closed. 

  “But then I found you after all. I saw you, at some concert, back in the 80s. Oh gods, your  _ hair _ .”

  “It was the fashion back then,” Apollo said, surprised to find a trace of laughter in his voice.

  “Sure, but not even I had gone for that look,” he teased. Then his face turned serious again. “You had your arm around a woman. It… It was a blow. I wasn’t sure how to react. I followed you, the two of you. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do or feel.”

  Apollo wasn’t sure what to say to that. There had been many lovers. Some were only that, a flash of passion, then gone. Others were more, some much more. He had never felt ashamed of that, and he didn’t feel obliged to do so either.

  “I didn’t know you were alive.”

  “I know.” Hyacinthus opened his eyes and looked at him with a small smile. “I  _ knew _ , I just needed some time. But once I had found you, it was as if I kept running into you. You didn’t know, of course. I changed my appearance so often. I never talked to you. Never touched you. But I watched you until I could no longer follow you.”

  “You stalked me?” Apollo said, but without accusation. He even waggled his brows, making Hyacinthus huff. 

  “I wouldn’t say stalk. It wasn’t like I was trying to track you down or anything. But whenever I did find you, I would follow you for the remains of that day. Just to see how you were doing.  _ Who  _ you were doing. You’ve got a good taste in lovers.”

  “Did you just give yourself a compliment?”

  “Maybe.”

  Apollo couldn’t hold it back - he laughed. Hyacinthus slid out of bed, wrapping the covers around his waist. He walked over, the fabric tracing the floor like a gown, and placed his hands around Apollo’s laughing face. Once the laughter had faded, he continued.

  “I was happy to see that  _ you  _ were happy. That you were enjoying yourself. That you had moved on. I realized that quite early. And I was happy to watch you, even in the company of others.”

  “Well, now you not only sound like a stalker, love, but like a peeping Tom.”

  Hyacinthus blushed. “I did not! I… Urgh, you are hopeless. I was just happy  _ you  _ were happy. I didn’t want to intrude on that. I didn’t want to be the reason for you to end that. And I definitely didn’t not want to risk you rejecting me.”

  “As if I would ever.” Slowly, Apollo wrapped his arms around Hyacinthus’ waist and rested his forehead against his stomach. He could feel fingers rub small circles into his shoulders and neck.

  “I know that now. But I needed to get to know you again. A little by a little.”

  “And how long were you planning on spying on me?”

  “I am not sure. A few months ago, I accidentally ran into Artemis.”

  “What!” Apollo jumped, and stared at him. “Artemis?”

  “Yeah, it was rather awkward, actually.”

  “Artemis  _ knew _ ?”

  “Not until quite recently,” Hyacinthus tried, but Apollo groaned.

  “I will strangle her with her own bow.”

  That only earned him laughter.

  “No you won't, you doofus. It was  _ I  _ that insisted she not tell you. But we talked. I explained. Then she told me you had moved in here, with Hermes and Dionysus. That you were trying to sort things out?”

  Apollo lay his forehead back against Hyacinthus’ stomach. “Yeah,” he whispered. “As you know.”

  “She told me to come to your housewarming party. She said I had been hiding too long, that I had to come clean. But she also said she would not push me into revealing myself before it was time. I think she thought it would do us both good to get to know each other, once again.”

  “She’s rather smart, my sister. A proper smartass.”

  “It worked, didn’t it? I could talk to you again, I could confirm to myself that you were still the same person I fell in love with so long ago. I could decide that I was ready to tell you.”

  “That… Actually explains a lot.”

  “Sorry about leaving you in the dark so long.”

  Apollo hummed. He still wasn’t sure what to feel or think. After a few long moments where he tried to make sense of things, he said “What do we do now? What are we?”

  Hyacinthus’ hands moved to his face, forcing him to look up.

  “I do not know. I used to know, back then. I was mortal. My life was just a flicker next to yours. I had no doubt in my mind that you would be there with me for the rest of my life, but that and only that. A full lifetime, but only the lifetime of a human. The relationships between the gods, they are so diverse. None are alike. I think… I think we  _ shouldn’t _ think. Not too much, at least. I too have fallen in love with mortals after I came back. I have seen that even mortals have feelings for other people than the person they are currently with. Sometimes it is a bad thing, sometimes not. I think as long as we are honest and open with each other, we can figure out what we are and what our relationship will be like, one step at a time. But I will not let you go, not again. If that is what you want, that is.”

  His dark eyes were shining, but steady. Awaiting patiently, but requiring an answer.

  Apollo pulled at him and leaned back, settling him in his lap in the chair, so that he could properly wrap his arms around Hyacinthus and pull him against his chest. He kissed his hair and spoke into his curls.

  “I do not know what this will be either, but I won’t let go of you. I am willing to find out, though. With you.”

  Hyacinthus sighed, and Apollo could feel his breath against his skin.

  “Good. That’s good.”

  And so they sat in silence, nuzzled against each other, and waited for daybreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, for keeping you readers in the dark too. Some of you might disagree with this turn of events. Some of you might instead be inspired to go back, and read Apollo's chapters again from the very beginning, just to see all the clues I left you.   
>  There will be two more chapters featuring the events of this evening, the next from Hermes POV, and then from Dio's, which will lead us into a whole new period of the story. I had actually planned to end this about here, but when have I ever been known to NOT overwork my creativity?


	15. Three Gods and a New Years Party - Part 2: Hermes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Years parties tend to be fun - carefree!  
> Just not when you get a text like that in the morning before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some pinterest collections if anyone are interested.
> 
> Eris: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/eris/
> 
> Hyacinthus: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/hyacinthus/ 

 

  Hermes woke on the morning of the 31st of December to a text from Eleanor.

   _"We need to talk."_

  Ah, shit.

  He'd heard that before. If Apollo had dated hundreds of people, Hermes had not-dated thousands. 

  Hermes didn't _do_ dates. He did _date-like_ things. He went to the movies, the carnival, the club. He kissed, he made out, he got laid. 

  He didn't do _'boyfriend'._

  That message right there, he had heard it thousands of times, almost as many times as the number of people he had fooled around with. In 90% of the cases, it was bad news. More often than not, he would open up the notes on his phone, copy, and paste a generic message he had once had Apollo help him formulate.

  The usual "It's not you it's me. I think we should end this-" message.

  Apollo claimed text message break-ups were horrible and awful. 

  Hermes claimed it wasn't a breakup if they had never dated, there for, it was fine.

  Dionysus was the type to get married. It worked, because both him and Ariadne shared the same philosophy about monogamy, which they also happened to share with the likes of rabbits. Good for them.

  Apollo was the type to be stuck in an endless loop while searching for his _"one true love"_ . It involved (1) falling madly in love with some mortal. Then, if they didn't die first or get turned into a plant, (2) knocking them up. (3) crying when they died and go into a 50 year long mourning period (like, come on, what did he expect when dating the equivalent of a fruitfly, don't cry for the mortality of mortals was Hermes' _official_ policy). (4) trying to get over his lost lover by flirting and getting laid for another 50 years. And then he would find someone new, and the whole thing would start over again.

  Hermes did not envy any of them. 

  Yet he ran an extra five kilometres that day.

  And went on a second run only two hours after he got back home.

  And after hearing about Apollo’s sickly sweet plans to woo this dude he had been chasing for the past few months, he volunteered to do… well… everything.

  Which he was having some regrets about now. 

  The snow on the streets had melted and turned black and sluggish, and he had been by so many stores by now, he could barely see past the mountain of bags be was carrying. It would have been so much easier if he could just fly without drawing attention to himself.

The many bags made him feel absolutely foolish walking home like this. He tried to shuffle them around in order to get his fingers to his mouth to call for a cab - his own magic driverless Amazon delivery truck, of course - and he tripped over something and fell face and bags first to the ground.

  Oh, he was pretty sure he had landed on top of the bag of juice. That, or the slushy street snow was just extra slushy. The result was the same anyhow - he was just about as soaked as that teddy bear he had once brough Cerberus.

  “Carefu-ul, He-ermes.”

  Hermes got his face out of the dirty snow, and looked into a pair of high heeled platform boots with several straps and zippers.

  Only one person he knew would ever wear shoes heavy enough to crush a human being.

  “ _Eris_.”

  “You really need to pay better attention.”

  “You tripped me on purpose, didn’t you?”

  “Neve-er. You should get up, you look like a run-over raccoon.”

  Eris was one of those few goddesses who could push every single one of Hermes’ buttons, and that was a skill to be proud of. As he got on his feet, dripping with wet, sloppy snow, he did his best to look like someone not worth bullying. 

  He probably did look more like a run-over raccoon.

  She, on the other hand, was as polished as always. Polished like black onyx. Her leather jacket was spiked, with embroideries of golden wings from the shoulder blades and down her sleeves. The gold matched her necklace - a golden apple. Her hair was black, but tipped with red, the same colour as her eyeliner, lipstick and nails. When she smirked, she showed of a row of pointed teeth. 

  But the most unsettling thing about her was her eyes. They were pitch black, and it seemed the iris was unusually large, filling more of her eye than was natural. They only barely narrowed when she smiled. She didn’t seem to need to blink as often as other people did, and she didn’t look away ever when talking to someone. Instead, she stared, like a transfixed owl. He tried to stare back, not wanting to be the first to break eye-contact.

  “Don’t you have some Twilight fans to bother?” 

  “Funny-y.” Eris kept grinning. “Shopping, Hermes? I thought you only stole. Ares said you are having a party tonight?”

  Hermes chose to look away anyway, and started picking up his bags and the items that had fallen out of them. “Yeah. So?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Sure you will.”

  “Because I am invited, I suppose?”

  “Of course.”

  “Go-od.” She dragged out the word, and Hermes imagined her slowly tearing the intestines out of a mouse with her teeth. “And your brothers?”

  “Which of them? Pretty sure Alex is dead. Wasn’t as great as you’d think, by the way.”

  “Oh, you kno-ow…”

  “Yeah, they will be there too. Listen, Eris, fun to catch up, but I need to get all this shit home, so if you don’t mind-”

  Eris, still grinning and unblinking, showed her hands. “Of course, of course.” As she backed away from him, he could see the air around her change. Rising from the embroidered wings on her jacket, black smoke rose, and formed into massive wings. It didn’t seem any mortals noticed, because they kept walking past as if nothing unusual was happening. 

  “I will see you, Hermes,” she said, sweet as always. Then she flapped her wings of smoke, and she was gone. 

  The wind created from her wings was the tiny push needed to make a woman on heels trip. As she fell, she bumped into an other woman carrying a bag of groceries. She too lost her balance, and soon there were tomatoes and garlic all over the snowy ground. The two got into an intense argument about who was to blame, and Hermes decided to flee the scene of the crime before someone got murdered. He put his fingers to his mouth, and called for his driver-less Amazon truck.

  Well, this day was going super…

 

  “You’re… cleaning your room?”

  “Yeah, am I not allowed to?”

  Dionysus and Apollo stood in the doorway of Hermes’ room, watching as he collected empty cans of RedBull and old candy wrappers (and old other wrappers, but no one commented on that). Rodney and Fido were in the large and freshly cleaned terrarium, snoozing after a meal.

  “Sure, sure,” said Apollo. “I mean, please do.”

  “It’s just, you’re doing it _without_ magic?” commented Dionysus. “It will take forever!”

  “So?”

  “... You know what, clean a passageway to your bed, I want to watch you work.”

  An ivyvine showed up from the kitchen carrying a bottle of red, and Dionysus made his way to Hermes’ bed and got comfy. Apollo sighed.

  “You two are something else. Hermes, what are you doing?”

  Hermes had just opened an old take-away box of pasta carbonara, and grinned. “Hey, it’s not empty!” He lifted it to his mouth, planning to simply pour the contents into his mouth - because, dishes, right - but Apollo launched forward and snatched it from him.

  “Are you crazy! Considering the state of your room more times than not, it could have all sorts of things in it! Like rat droppings! What even is this?”

  “Carbonara! And dude, come on, give it back.”

  “No!” Apollo held the box up, almost reaching the ceiling. “You’re going to get sick! Carbonara, are you crazy! You can’t eat ancient carbonara and expect _not_ to get food poisoning!”

  “Hey! Why… Are… You… So… _Tall_?” Hermes huffed as he tried to jump to catch the box. Eventually, he gave up, shook his feet, and had his embroidered wings unstitch and turn into feathers. The wings under his hair unfolded and grew. Soon he was in the air, snatching after the box Apollo desperately tried to keep from him. 

  He tried not to laugh as Apollo did his best to keep his balance while jumping in-between heaps of dirty laundry and gaming consoles. He launched forward in a way that made his stomach feel weightless, only to crash into the window of the wall-to-ceiling terrarium. 

  Apollo had escaped his attempt by turning into a large white raven, and he was holding the now neatly folded box in his claws. He croaked at Hermes.

  “I am throwing this into the trash!” the raven said with what was unmistakably Apollo’s voice. 

  “I paid good money for that!” Hermes argued. Really, he had teleported to Padova in Italy last week to get it, and then interrupted himself several times while trying to eat it because he had come up with fun Tik-Tok ideas that absolutely had to be shared with Dionysus, then storyboarded _and_ filmed before he could go back to eating. 

  “Tough luck!” Apollo said, and turned in the air to fly to the door. Hermes was just about to kick against the glass to get enough momentum to reach the door first, when a soft snore moved his attention away from the Pasta Carbonara.

  Dionysus had fallen asleep on his bed, the bottle of wine nested in the crook of his arm. New buds were forming in his hair, nurtured by sleep.

  Apollo turned back into his human form, holding the take-away box in his hands.

  They looked at each other, and nodded to establish a truce. 

  Hermes carefully pulled his covers up over Dionysus, and flew out the door after Apollo, who closed it as quietly as possible.

  “He teleported earlier,” Apollo explained. “Artemis has tipped him off about a waterfall somewhere, he preferred it to our, what did he call it, _‘human constructed, cramped, and soul entrapping’_ shower.”

  “Is that why he is sleeping all the time? Teleportation?” Hermes asked. Sure, Dionysus was a lot more calm than he had been back during what Hermes liked to call ‘Dionysus’ Teenage Rebellion’. He was prone to napping in spots where the sun shone and to sleep all day in favour of staying up late. But he had been resting a lot more than usual, and Hermes wasn’t even sure when he had last gone clubbing. 

  Apollo answered only with a _hmm_ , but Hermes noticed his frown. It was there only for a second, then Apollo tapped the take-away-box. “I am going up on the roof, but first I am _pouring_ this into the trash. No chance of simply taking out the box, you hear me! You can help me out if you are so desperate for chores. Hermes? Hey? You alright?”

  “Mhm, yeah. I mean, no. I… I’ll do the dishes! Put up some balloons and fairy lights and stuff. You go do your… thingy.”

  The frown was back between Apollo’s brows, but Hermes looked away and made sure not to meet his eyes.

  “I’ll even take out the trash. I promise not to eat the-”

  “Garbage?”

  “- leftovers.”

  He took the box from Apollo and walked down the hall to the kitchen, where he poured the contains into the garbage and closed the bag. All the time, he could feel Apollo’s eyes on him. 

  “Go, get the roof ready. Hey, get the _bed_ ready. Do you want to borrow some handcuffs, or at least some lube or-”

  “Fine, I can take a hint.” Apollo turned in the kitchen door, but stopped to look back. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, but Hermes turned around and started emptying the dishwasher, making as much noise as he possibly could. Behind him, he heard the door of the apartment open and then close.

  Hermes stopped working, very much aware of how quiet the apartment had become. It was a sudden vacuum, and almost instantly, his mind tried to fill it. There was a smile, and red hair, and a text message that was still left unanswered. Before his thoughts could get any further, he pulled out a pair of earbuds, and put on a playlist.

 

People. That’s what he needed, he realized. A constant flow of new people chatting and singing and asking him where the bathroom was.

  He couldn’t talk for long with one person, though. Soon their voice would fade out, and his mind would start to wander, and they would wander along to Eleanor, and he would have to excuse himself, find someone new, offer them a drink, and repeat the process. 

  Eris showed, of course. What else had he expected? She was laughing - a loud, cold, barking sound. It was that kind of laugh that always made him wonder if she was laughing of _him_. It made him feel small, and gave him chills. Under his dense curls, he could feel his wings press flat against his head. 

  Every time she looked at him, he felt slightly compelled to pull out his phone and text Eleanor back, preferably with a message that contained the word “bitch” and “fuck yourself”. 

  It helped that he knew it was because of Eris’ powers, but he still had to make a RedBull and Vodka and down it in one go to get his mind back on track.

  Oliver finally showed, and Apollo looked so happy about it, that Hermes chose to mix his new RedBull and Vodka extra strong before approaching them. And as soon as he had done his work as a host, he mixed himself another.

  Before he had the chance to down that too, it was snatced out of his hands.

  “Slow down, Mimi.” Dionysus replaced his glass with a bottle of coke instead. “Here, drink something alcohol free. Rehydrate.”

  “It’s a party, isn’t drinking kind of the whole point?”

  “Loads of people don’t drink, and can still have a good time. Not me, of course, but you should give it a go. Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

  Hermes allowed himself to be lead out on the balcony, where only Ariadne was standing. She had a glass of red wine, and it had stained her teeth just a little. Not in an unflattering way, but it reminded him of who she was married to. He supposed at most other parties, wearing a diadem would be weird, but no one would ever dare call Ariadne weird. She had that regal posture that said _I might be looking like a hipster hippie, but don’t you for a second doubt that I will hesitate to kick you in the nuts if you call me sweetheart_.

  He knew.

  He had called her _sweetheart_ once.

  “Ariadne, do you mind, I want a word with my dumbass brother?” 

  She smiled and kissed Dionysus’ cheek. “Of course. I’ll go and find the Muses. They are always fun company.”

  When she closed the door, Hermes sighed.

  “Okay, I _know_ it was stupid of me to invite Eris, Apollo already said so, I don’t need you too to-”

  “It’s not that.”

  “And I am sorry I washed your lacy leopard print underwear with my red socks-”

  “I- wait, what? No, forget that. Mimi-” Dionysus caught his eyes, and Hermes felt his thoughts focus.

  “What is up with you today?” Dionysus asked. Hermes shrugged.

  “I just downed five RedBull, that’s all!”

  “No, that’s not all.” 

  Dionysus moved closer and put his arm around Hermes. “Hey. Talk to me.”

  The gentleness of it all made Hermes put down his guard. He sighed, and leaned his head against the balcony rail.

  “Eleanor texted me this morning. She wants to talk.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “Could be anything. Once, a dude sent me that text to tell me he had named his pet parakeet after me.”

  “You don’t think-”

  “I try not to.” He lifted his head to look Dionysus in the eyes. They always held some comfort for him. Sometimes mischief, a plan for them to do something stupid together. Sometimes warmth. It helped him stabilize, knowing that there was always family. It was a reminder that he had roots somewhere, even when his own mortal children and lovers passed by too quick. There were always other almost-immortals to help him pass the time through the centuries.

  “I try not to think too much about it. Whatever happens, happens, you know. It’s not up to me anyway. So why stop to worry?”

  “Herm,” Dionysus said, is tone overbearing. “You’re already thinking about it. You’re trying to stay busy, but don’t come here and tell me you haven’t been worried all day.”

  He chose not to comment. Dionysus was right, after all. Instead, he preferred to change the topic.

  “You’re wearing your amethyst. So I take it you’re not joining me in trying to get waisted to forget our problems?”

  He’d struck a nerve, and he regretted it immediately. The warmth in Dionysus eyes cooled, and he took his arm off Hermes in favour of clinging to his gem.

  Hermes rose, feeling protective. “Loki?”

  “I’m taking it slow,” Dionysus said, his voice a whisper. “Me and Ariadne talked. She suggested I take it one step at the time. Not go all out tonight. I… I’ve been to some clubs the past few months, but… I keep coming back home. Alone.”

  “Hey, ain’t no shame in that. Don’t push yourself.”

  “I feel… Hermes, I feel like something essential is just… gone. I never used to… Things like this never used to _get to me_ like that.” He looked up then, staring at Hermes. “I wasn’t always this weak.”

  That made Hermes recoil. His mouth suddenly felt dry. “Weak, Dio, you’re not-”

  “But I am.”

  “Dio! You are practically the _god_ of mental issues of all kinds, you of all people should know that-”

  “There, you said it. I’m a _god_. I shouldn’t… I should have resolved these problems by now.”

  “Don’t say that. Bro.” Hermes reached out to place his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Dio, don’t rush things.”

  Dionysus looked away, and he opened his mouth, as if to answer, but the sliding doors to the living room opened.

  Eris smiled at them, that smile of hers that didn’t always reach her eyes. 

  “Hermes,” she said. “I want a word with Dionysus. If you don’t mind?”

  An instinct in him wanted to refuse. To say _no_ and slam the door on her. This was wrong, all wrong. Eris was never good news. Dionysus was not weak. And he, Hermes, was not supposed to spend a party dreading the inevitable talk with his current fuck-buddy.

  He stood his ground, staring at Eris, but Dionysus squeezed his hand and removed it off his shoulder.

  “It’s alright. Go see if Eleanor has arrived.”

  As if someone had heard him, Hermes got a text. The sudden noise made him jump, and his heart was racing when he pulled the phone out of his pocket.

  Only two words.

   _I’m outside._

 

  It had started to snow.

  Big and fluffy snowflakes which were slow to fall and quieted the otherwise noisy night.

  He regretted not putting on a coat. The cool air made him shutter slightly as he descended through it and perched on top of a street lamp. From here, he could watch Eleanor from above. Spots of white landed in her red hair, and from afar, he could imagine they were feathers. 

  She pulled out her phone, checked it, and put it back into the pocket of her flight jacket.

  No point in stalling, he guessed. 

  Yet he had to take several deep breaths before he lifted off his perch. When Eleanor turned to look the other way, he landed behind her in the entrance of the building. Careful as not to make any sound too soon, he opened the door and closed it again to make it seem like he had just come out.

  Eleanor turned, and he put on his best carefree grin.

  “Hey, ready for the party? Did the family dinner take longer than expected?”

  Her cheeks were red from the cold, and he wondered if they would get any brighter if he kissed her. But he held back, and showed his hands into the pockets of his jeans to stop them from reaching out towards her.

  “Can we…” She nodded down the street. Her intentions got even clearer when a whole gang came crashing through the door, heading for the streets. They had their arms around each other and were singing “Auld Lang Syne” very much off-key. The entrance wasn’t exactly the most private place.

  She took the lead and walked them around the corner and into the alley beside the building. There, she leaned against the wall, and sighed.

  Her eyes were red too, he realized. 

  He wondered if his were.

  "What are we, Hermes? What is this?" She gestured between them, and Hermes felt his chest tighten. 

  "Fun. Isn't it? Isn't this… fun?" 

 “Fun… yeah.” 

  She smiled then, a small and tired smile that made the corners of her mouth twitch only slightly. Then, she reached out, and cupped his face. She urged him closer, close enough that he could share some of her warmth. 

  Her eyes were indeed a bit red.

  Her hands moved, her fingers brushing against his curls. It gave him chills, and he put his own hands on hers. It was a trick he had figured out long ago, it would easily stop any lover from touching his head too much, and he could just pretend he was self conscious about having his hair messed up.

  But it didn’t work.

  Her brows furrowed, and she slid her hands into his hair and spread out her fingers. The tips on her index fingers brushed up against his hidden wings.

  He realized he had stopped breathing. Not that it mattered much, he couldn’t die anyway, but he drew a long, shuddering breath.

  “Hermes,” she said, her voice low and demanding.

  He swallowed and licked his lips, which were dry and stiff in the cold air.

  “ _Hermes,_ ” she said again, with more pressure.

  Well, fuck it.

  He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax the muscles in his wings.

  They unfolded and grew to their natural size, forcing aside curls that were in the way. It was cold without his hair covering them, but still it weighed up for the constant strain of having to keep them tucked away. 

  The feathers puffed up a little to keep warm. Gentle fingertips ran over them, careful not to ruffle them up. 

  “How long?” he asked, his eyes still closed. He reached out and placed his hands on Eleanor’s waist, grounding himself. 

  “I’m not sure. It was a puzzle, I put it together a little by a little.”

  Her hands lowered, and rested on his shoulders. With a deep breath, he dared open his eyes.

  Yeah, her eyes were red.

  “I need to ask you some things.”

  “Alright. Shoot. I mean, not literally, I know you have a gun in your pants, it’s not just because you are happy to see me, but-”

  “Hermes.”

  “Shutting up.”

  Snowflakes were still settling in her hair, he noticed. They were not as many as before, and they were smaller and melted faster.

  “How old are you?”

  “Hard to say. The calendars have changed.”

  “I am not asking for a specific year.”

  “About three-thousand-five-hundred, then. I use a rigid skin care routine-”

  “Hermes.”

  “Shutting up.”

  He shivered in the cold. Eleanor let go of him for a moment to pull down the zipper on her jacket, and took his hands and placed them back on her waist. He moved in closer, wrapping his arms around her and settling in the warmth.

  "How many kids do you have?"

  "That are still alive? Because I got a whole huge notebook with years of birth _and_ death if you want to-"

  Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Yes, that are alive."

  "Why are you asking?"

  "Just answer my question."

  Hermes sighed, and he could feel his wings cling against his head, making him look smaller than he was.

  "Four. 13, 36, and two twins at 85. A couple of times, there have been abortions, and a miscarriage. I had a son who would have been in his fifties now, but he died back in the 90s. Climbing accident."

  "Do they know? Were you… involved at all?"

  "The twins know. They are from a culture and a time that makes it easier for them to comprehend. The others… I make sure they are alright. Pull some strings. For some I've been in and out a bit of their lives early on."

  "And their parents?"

  "Usually don't know. It is rarely a good idea to tell people you are an immortal deity with wings poking out of your head. You'll risk them losing it all together." He laughed half-heartedly. It didn't make him feel much better. With a sigh, he lay his forehead against hers and closed his eyes again. Conversations like these - and there had been a handful through the ages - were easier in the dark. Eleanor placed her hands to his wings again and caressed them carefully. 

  "What are you trying to tell me, Eleanor?"

  He could hear her swallow before answering.

  "I'm pregnant."

  He opened his eyes and leaned back so that he could look at her. Her eyes were wide and shiny and her voice was thick when she asked "What should I do?"

She had some locks of red hair in her eyes, and he brushed them away carefully.

  "I do not know. That is not up to me to decide."

  "But you're a god."

  "I am just some odd humanoid species with an insane life span and weird powers. This is your body, your life. I could have asked you to consider to carry the child to birth, and to let me care for it from then on. But it would still be your decision. Your right as a human being."

  Her eyes seemed to regain some spark.

  "It is?"

  "Of course."

  She nodded to herself. "If I do this, will you help? I am not saying you should move in with me or anything. Just… I want to know I am not alone."

  “If that is what you want and what you need, I will.”

  They stood for a few long minutes, Eleanor’s hands on his wings, his arms around her. He considered kissing her, but that was dangerously close to something two people dating would do, considering the new aspects of their situation. He swallowed, and dared to ask.

  “So, what about us from now on? What are we now?”

  “Friends? Not lovers, that would… complicate things further. I promise I won’t get upset if you knock up some other mortal woman.” The corner of her mouth twitched in a shy grin.

  “You know, you say that as a joke, but it could suddenly become reality.”

  “Hey,” she kissed his nose. “More family for the kid.”

 

Hermes woke up with someone warm close by. It took him some time to put all the pieces together, but he finally managed to open an eye and recognize Eleanor. She was wearing one of his t-shirts, snoring slightly. 

  His arm was around her, protecting her stomach, he realized. 

  They hadn’t done anything, for once. They were just friends now, no benefits attached. It was okay. He’d gone through that before. Honestly, if anything, he was happy. Everything had worked out better than expected. Eleanor knew of his secrets. Nice, no need to hide anything. She was pregnant. Alright. She wanted to keep the child. 

  The last part was the make-and-break. It was her decision. He could have offered to take the foster, to grow it himself. He had done it a few times during his lifetime. It worked. But only if the mother knew and was willing, or… well… was dead. He wasn’t opposed to abortions. They too, were in their own way, a part of nature. 

  But he was still happy whenever a parent said they wanted to keep the child.

  He closed his eyes and moved his focus to her stomach, wondering if any soul had been created or picked for reincarnation yet. Once, he had managed to father the same soul three times across a period of 2000 years. Elysium, every time. Someone should give him a #1 Dad mug.

  Hermes shuffled and moved so that he was resting his head next to Eleanor’s waist. He was perfectly aware that the foster was basically a shrimp, and couldn’t hear yet. After all, he had read more baby books than anyone else he knew off. Still, he sang as quietly as he could, that same lullaby he had sung for several thousand years. 

  “Your wings are still out.”

  Her voice startled him, but then he grinned.

  “Sorry to wake you.”

  “Wasn’t the worst song to wake up to.” The moment was broken by her stomach growling, and Eleanor blushed. “Sorry, I just smell pancakes.”

  “You’ll be eating for two in due time, I better just have Apollo prepare tons of pancakes for you, and I can have them delivered at your door. What do you say?”

  Eleanor grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

  “But first, breakfast. Do you want it in bed or-”

  “I am getting up. We better just tell your brothers anyway, huh? Or, is this not a big deal for you perhaps, if you’ve all got a whole herd of kids each?”

  “Not a _big deal?_ ” Hermes pretended to be shocked and sat up in bed with his hand to his chest. “Our child, not a big deal?” Then he leaned down to mumble against her stomach. “Did you hear that, little one? What an insult.”

  “Idiot,” laughed Eleanor. “But seriously, breakfast? Throw me my pants.”

  

It seemed Hermes wasn’t the only one who had a visitor over the night (though, strictly friendly, he had to remind himself of that). There was someone in the bathroom, and he guess Dionysus had made a habit of teleporting to wash up somewhere less ‘ _modern and cramped_ ’. It wasn’t Apollo, because he was in the kitchen making pancakes, with someone else, as the voices revealed. 

  “You sure you can’t stay the day?”  
  “It’s way past midday already, Apollo. I have a PT session.”

  “Come on, who works out on January first?”

  “A lot of people. A lot of people with extra money. I’ll be back later tonight, I promise.”

  “At least bring a bag of pancakes. Here.”

  “Hey guys,” Hermes called down the hall as he walked to the kitchen. He grabbed Eleanor’s hand and grinned. “Guys, we’ve got some news.”

  Out of the kitchen came Apollo and - _not_ Oliver?

  Had Apollo already given up on him and found some random…

  Not random…

  “Uuuh…”

  Apollo and not-Oliver turned and looked at Hermes. Apollo lifted a hand.

  “Hi, Eleanor. Hermes, your wings are showing, I suppose that means she knows?”

  Hermes didn’t answer, instead he lifted a hand and pointed at not-Oliver.

  “Uuuh…”

  “Hi, Hermes. Good party. I am off,” said not-Oliver. Then he tip-toed to kiss Apollo on his forehead, and proceeded to put on his jacket.

  The bomber jacket Apollo had gotten Oliver for Solstice. 

  Just as not-Oliver was about to leave, Apollo stopped him.

  “Hyacinthus, your appearance, honey.”

  “Oh, right. Almost forgot.” 

  And right before Hermes’ eyes, not-Oliver/definitely-Hyacinthus changed into definitely-Oliver again. Definitely-Oliver waved a hand, and then walked out the door.

  Apollo grinned, then frowned. “Hermes, your mouth is open.” Eleanor, who did not understand the commotion, leaned forward and closed Hermes’ mouth for him. That somehow made his gears turn again.

  “Was that… Was that really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But he is _dead_.”

  “No, not anymore. You had some news, you said.”

  “I… Yeah… I… the _fuck, Pollo_?”

  “ _Eleanor_ , you had some _news_ , you said?”

  Eleanor nodded, while Hermes felt like his brain needed to be oiled up with a box of RedBull.

  “We do. Hermes, go on.”

  “Yeah I… yeah! Yeah! I’m gonna be a dad! Again!”

  Apollo’s face lit up even more, literally, because he started to glow ever so slightly. 

  “No way! Eleanor, that is wonderful. Come here!” While the two embraced, Hermes finally felt things work in his brain again. Last night, nothing had felt right. Now, everything seemed alright. Hyacinthus was… not dead, for some reason. Okay, good, he’d get that story later. Eleanor was pregnant. Apollo was happy for him. There were pancakes. All good things.

  Then the bathroom door opened, and Hermes turned to see Ariadne. 

  “Ariadne! You have to get your husband out of bed!” Apollo proclaimed, still an arm around Eleanor. “Everyone has news today, it seems!”

  But Ariadne didn’t smile. Her hair was still wet, and that with her expression gave Hermes the image of a lost and abandoned kitten in the rain. 

  Hermes frowned, feeling his newly running gears hold up again, awaiting a new command.

  “Ariadne, what’s wrong?”

  She looked up, her expression serious. Then, from the pockets of her skirt, she pulled out a necklace. A pendant. A purple amethyst. 

  “I found this, on Dionysus’ nightstand.”

  “So he decided to get drunk after all?” Hermes suggested. “Sure, cool thing. I thought he said he wasn’t up for it, but-”

  “No, it’s not that.” Ariadne clung the amethyst to her chest, and straightened. This was not a lost kitten, Hermes realized, but a dangerous and protective she-lion, making it clear that she was not one to mess with. 

  “Dionysus doesn’t answer his phone,” she said, almost a growl. “He is gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With that, we have more or less ended Apollo's arc, and started on Hermes'. It's time to continue down the path of We Love (To Torture) Dionysus! Fun times. Fun fun times...
> 
> Happy holidays!


	16. Three Gods and a New Years Party - Part 3: Dionysus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eris is helping.  
> Hecate is 100% done with her shit.  
> Persephone says "I think this is a bad idea."  
> And Dionysus drinks the Kool-Aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh my god" you say. "Three chapters within just a few weeks!" you say. "You must be on a roll" you say.
> 
> And I lift my glass of diet Christmas soda (Hamar Lillehammer Julebrus suckers) and explain to you I was parallel writing these three chapters, and I have no clue as to what will happen from now on, so you better just take a seat and get comfy because you might have to wait a while for the next.
> 
> I recommend you watch this video by Overly Sarcastic Productions to understand what is going on: www.youtube.com/watch?v=5brAr51ip_k

He missed Hermes the moment he jumped off the balcony.

  Aladdin style.

  Of course. Goof.

  Dionysus sighed and leaned against the railing. “What do you want, Eris?”

  “To offer some help for your problems, sweet Dionysus.”

_ Bitch, yeah right.  _ Eris hadn’t helped anyone ever. Well, she had probably helped Ares. But no one else.

  “What kind of help to what kind of problem?” He sipped his wine slowly, pretending not to be overly interested. 

  Not that he was.

  “I have felt some… call them  _ negative emotions _ in your presence as of late.”

  “No idea what you are on about. Maybe your powers have gone haywire? You know, like excess ear wax? Tried to flush it out?”

  “Fu-unny,” she said, dragging the word out with a sickly sweet voice. “You and Hermes really are two of a kind.”

  “We are brothers, after all.”

  “Mhm… Say, Dionysus-” Eris moved closer and leaned against the railings next to him. “We both know you are not feeling, say,  _ on top _ .”

  “Is that a gay-joke? You know I swing  _ all  _ ways.” He waggled his eyebrows. 

  Eris laughed, but her laugh was cold and too high pitched to seem real. When she finally stopped, she grinned at him. 

  He wondered if she ever had problems eating with those pointed teeth.

  “Now, Dionysus-” Did everyone usually over-use names like that? He knew his own name, no need to remind him of it every other second. “I believe you have not seen the full picture here.”

  “What picture?”

  “A puzzle.” 

  “Athena once gave me a huge one for solstice with a velur covered panther on it. The pieces were fuzzy.”

  “Cu-ute. You are experiencing negative emotions, Dionysus, and I  _ know why _ .”

  Dionysus took the glass from his lips. “What?”

  “Don’t you want to know  _ why _ ?”

  “I… I… How do you know about-”  _ About Loki _ , he thought, but she interrupted him.

  “Others made the choices for you that have changed who you are.”

  “It’s just… I’m only going through a rough time. It will pass.”

  “Ah, but! This  _ rough time _ as you call it, could have been prevented. If you were not already  _ weakened _ .”

  That hit home. It was okay for  _ him _ to say it. It was okay to tell Hermes. It was  _ not _ okay for  _ Eris _ \- of all goddesses - to say it to his face. He snarled.

_ “Weak?” _

__ But Eris put her hands up. “Now, now, Dionysus. Your own words. I heard.”

  “You were eavesdropping?” 

  She shrugged. “I often do. Now, back to the topic at hand?”

  “Fine,” Dionysus hissed, and put his wine glass down on the patio table.

  “Rhea took your madness from you, did she not, when in the form of Kybele of Phrygia? The madness Hera had afflicted upon you?”

  “She cured me, yeah. Turned me back. She gave me my amethyst.”

  “Back, you say? Cured, you say? But were you not milder after than you had been before Hera’s curse?”

  Dionysus frowned. “What… what do you mean?”

  “You were a wild youth, Dionysus. Did you not drive Lykourgos to madness? Did you not have Pentheus’ daughters rip their father apart, limb by limb? Did you not treat animals the same way, eating their warm flesh clean off the bones.”

  “Many gods have done worse. Much worse,” Dionysus growled. He wasn’t proud of what he had done, but hadn’t Hera - queen of the gods herself - had his aunt and uncle kill each other? 

  “Yes, they have. But think of yourself. After Kybele healed you, as you call it, would you as easily turn to these punishments in joy as you had before?”

  He felt sick, and had to swallow several times to make his throat feel normal. “No, of course now.”

  “Don’t you think, Dio-son of Nysa, that Kybele took more of you than she needed to? That she removed parts of your true ancestry?”

  “Ancestry?”

  “Of your mother’s side. Of your  _ first _ mother’s side.”

  “My what now?”

  “I can show you,” Eris said, her eyes determined, eager. “If your goal is to forget as much as possible, to be as  _ wild _ as possible, to be as much the person you once was, then maybe you’re up for transporting with me?”

  “Where to?”

  Her eyes shone. 

  “The underworld.”

 

  The underworld was a place of contradicting feelings.

  It was a place he had grown up and lived. It was a place of consistency and death.

  It was a place of good memories. It was a place of darkness and claustrophobia.

  It was the place his mother and wife had been taken to when taken from him.

  It was the place he had reclaimed them, restored them, reunited with them.

  He didn’t like dogs. But he liked Cerberus.

  He liked Cerberus because he was big and scary and ready to tear apart intruders. But if he knew you, if he knew you had the right intentions, he would allow you to pet one of his snouts.

 He didn’t like the lack of natural light. But he liked the glowing crystals and flowers and mushrooms, because they were a part of nature and lit up a place that otherwise felt uncomfortably restrained and cold.

  He did not like the guards and servants of Hades’ palace. Most were dead and lifeless, cold and unfriendly. But he did like Hecate, the consort of the queen and a fellow Olymian. She stood before the gates of Hades’ palace, a torch in each hand. By her feet sat a black dog. It wagged its tail when they approached.

  Her eyes shone when she saw him. They had the same colour that Hestia and Hephaestus did - amber like fire. But while Hestia’s were warm and gentle, and Hephaestus’ were calculating and filled with humor and good ideas, Hecate’s eyes were like that of a carnivore - a golden reflection in the night. They gave not comforting warmth or useful heat - only light to see hidden things in the darkness. It was a gaze that followed you around, noticed things, saw things no one else saw.

  “Dionysus, good to see you, though I sense it is not a joyous occasion that brings you here?”

  “Is it your magic that are telling you that?”

  “No.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s the fact that  _ Eris  _ brought you.”

  “It is so-o nice to see yo-ou,” Eris said, and her voice didn’t even carry any sarcasm. Which honestly, made her come across as even less likable. At least to Hecate, who huffed and returned her attention to Dionysus.

  “Are you here to see Queen Persephone?”

  Eris answered for them. “Yes.”

  Hecate kept talking directly to Dionysus. “Caron sent me a message and told me you were coming. I’ve sent Gale ahead to let her know.”

  “Go-od,” said Eris.

  “I am sure she will be delighted to know you’ve come.”

  “We are delighted too.”

  Hecate gave Eris a look Dionysus was sure he had seen in un-amused large cats right before they released their claws.

  “Let’s just go inside,” she finally sighed.  “Before I do something I will regret.”

 

  Every surface was of polished black stone. The footsteps of Eris and Hecate echoed between the scarcely decorated walls, but Dionysus walked barefoot and his feet didn’t make more sound than a cat would. The only sound he made was the rythmic sound of his thyrsus - his pine-coned staff - against the floor. For a royal meeting, it was correct to dress accordingly - in his ancient purple himation. It wasn’t the most fashionable thing by today’s standards, but it hid the most essential parts and was rather comfortable. 

  Hecate and her dog led them to a set of doors he knew well from his childhood. Unlike the other doors they had passed so far, this was of carved wood, portraying a field of Asphodel-flowers. She knocked three times, and a woman’s voice told them to enter.

  The room was quite the opposite of the cold, polished rock. There were furniture of dark wood, large windows with a view of a magnificent garden, lacy white curtains that moved in a breeze that did not exist, and a fireplace that threw a warm and comforting light over a mountain of pillows. A grey polecat was curled up on an ottoman. The walls were covered in ivy vines. By the fire stood a woman dressed in white.

  Persephone bore a crown made of finger bones and quartz crystals. It seemed ghostly in contrast to her lively hair, which was deep red like the flesh around pomegranate seeds. Her dress was currently white as snow, with embroideries in green, but Dionysus had seen her in summer, when the colours were reversed, and the fabric not so heavy and warm. Winter and the Underworld changed her, he thought, not too different from the way her clothes changed with the season. She was pale, now, and she bore herself in that regal manner queens did. She was much more fun in summer, when she didn’t carry the same duties. But Dionysus knew she could be warm and patient in private. She had been one of his many caretakers. The underworld had been a safe place to grow up, even if he hated the lack of sunlight. For the most part, he had played in the garden, under the colourful lights of the crystals and magical flowers.

  “Dionysus, foster-son. For what do I owe this pleasure?” Her voice formal, but there was a poorly disguised warmth in it. 

  “Persephone!”

  He didn’t bother with the formalities, and went straight for an embrace, which she wholeheartedly welcomed. She smelled of summer still, of flowers in bloom and warm soil.

  “I missed you for Solstice,” he said, speaking into her hair. 

  “I am bound here. Summer Solstice, you can be sure I will visit then.”

  She pushed him gently off her, but only in order to get a proper look at him. What she saw didn’t please her. The joy in her eyes faded.

  “Dionysus. You look tired, foster-son. Is it winter that is taking its toll on you too, or is it more?”

  “That is why we are here,” said Eris. “We have come for  _ Zagreus _ ,” 

  Persephone recoiled, and let go of Dionysus. “You  _ what? _ ”

  “Zagreus,” Eris repeated patiently. 

  “But he…” Persephone’s eyes darted to Dionysus, and back to Eris again. “He is gone. My son, ripped to pieces by the titans. Thousands of years ago!”

  As Persephone began walking backwards, Eris walked towards her, keeping their distance the same. She ripped one of Hecate’s torches from her, and held it towards Persephone.

  “Queen Persephone, you can not hide secrets in the darkness of the land of the dead forever.”

  “But… but…” Her lips trembled, and her eyes kept darting from Eris, to Hecate, to Dionysus. 

  Dionysus stepped forward. “Eris, stop. You are scaring her, don’t you see? I… I will not make her do anything if it will hurt her, whatever your plan is.”

  “It’s not me it will hurt,” Persephone whispered. “But I… Hecate, my consort, what would you say?”

  Hecate frowned at Eris, but nodded.

  “Hidden secrets are never hidden forever. Even moonlight will sooner or later shine upon things hidden in the night. If this is what Dionysus himself wish, I would say  _ one _ of your  _ many _ choices is to give it to him.”

  All women looked at Dionysus, who felt he was being pushed against a corner with a secret trap door threatening to let him plunge into the unknown.

  “What is this all really about, Eris. Whatever this is, what do you gain from it?”

  “I get to see old secrets resolved, oh Dionysus. Persephone, bring it forth, and we shall then see what he chooses.”

  Persephone writhed her hands. “I am not sure this is wise. What good will it do? Nothing. Nothing at all! I- Dionysus, where is your amethyst?”

  On instinct, Dionysus rose his hand to grab his pendant, but halfway he remembered he wasn’t wearing it.

  “I… took it off. I left it at home. In the apartment, I mean.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she hissed. “ _ Why? _ ”

  Dionysus looked to Eris, who grinned her stiff smile filled with pointed teeth. “It is all part of the ritual. It would stop them from reuniting.”

  “What, no, it wouldn’t! Would it?” Persephone directed the question to Hecate, who pursed her lips while thinking.

  “It might. If Kybele’s purifying magic is contained in it, in addition to its natural powers of keeping the bearer sober and clear of mind. I could have told you yes or no if I actually  _ had _ the amulet, but we would have to ask Kybele herself to-”

  “No need.” Eris handed Hecate her torch back, by showing it into her face. “This ritual will restore things back to normal. We want normal, isn’t that ri-ight?”

  Persephone and Hecate shared a look. 

  “ _ He _ would be reborn. Again,” Hecate said. “In the full sense of the word. Perhaps good things can come from it?”

  “He was thirsty. For many things.”

  “We have grown. We have changed and matured, as the world and the humans have. Dionysus too. It could balance itself out.”

  “Or it could not.”

  “Bring it forth. And then it’s up to him.”

  They kept watching each other, a silent discussion continuing the spoken. Then Persephone let out a dramatic sigh.

  “Alright, then. I will leave it up to him.”

  She walked past them and disappeared out the door. Neither spoke while they waited, and after a silent eternity, he could once again hear Persephone’s footsteps down the hall.

  She emerged with a drinking horn in her hands - the curved horn of a ram. 

  “Here,” she said “Here it is. Whatever Kybele carved away, it returned to its first home, to me. I had this formed of the fragments, a kind of rebirth, if you will.” She handed it to Hecate, but Eris snatched it first. She twisted and turned it and gasped in delight.

  “Yes, I remember. Oh, I have seen this before. Wonderful, isn’t it?” She licked her own finger, stuffed it into the horn and then licked it again. “Ah, tastes of  _ destruction _ .”

  “Give me that,” Hecate said and took it back. She huffed and lifted her chin to look down at Eris, before turning her gaze to the horn. “But it is wonderful, yes. So many rebirths, like the moon returning every cycle. I suppose, Eris, you want to make what once was, possible again?”

  Eris nodded, her teeth a carnivorous grin.

  Hecate began to chant, words older than Dionysus himself, and he felt himself compelled to move forward to see properly. From nothing, the drinking horn filled with wine. It was dark, and the way it moved in the horn made Dionysus wonder whether it actually  _ was _ wine.

  Hecate finished her chanting, and handed Dionysus the cup. “For you, if you so wish.”

  Instead of taking it, Dionysus clung with both hands to his staff, as if having something to hold onto would make it easier not to reach out, tempting as it was.

  “What will happen?”

  “You will be restored to your full glory. The darkness you feel, once again embraced. The horrors you’ve seen, once again only a game. The nightmares you have, once again only fever dreams of intoxication.”

  “And?”

  “And the full truth and nature of your rebirth will come to you.”

  Dionysus looked to Persephone, but her face revealed no clues for him as of what to do. Then to Eris, who gestured for him to go on.

  He swallowed. Then nodded, and accepted the horn.

 

Dionysus did not long for his amethyst. It was forgotten, abandoned. Most things were, now. Everything and everyone moved faster than normal. Sounds were taken out of context and mixed together again. His limbs were light and heavy at the same time. There were hands and lips, and he wasn’t sure to whom they belonged. Not Ariadne, though she was distant from his memory right now. It might as well could have been, he wouldn’t have cared much. There was a bottle to his lips, now, once again, and he downed whatever was in it. Then he fell backwards, and into soft fabrics and animal pelts. 

  In between lips, many lips, someone offered him food. Savory, salty, stringy. Wine and blood mixed on his chin and his throat, and he did not care much. If some part of him regretted drinking the blood from the horn, it had been silenced by wine and more.

 

  Wherever he was, he recognized it somewhat through the haze.

  Whenever he was, it was as it had always been.

 

  Whoever he was, it was someone new and old.

 

Dead and alive. 


	17. Three Gods and a Bonfire Brawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 70% too many characters talking  
> 30% Apollo getting his ass kicked

The thing about short notice emergency meetings was that they often turned into not so short notice emergency meetings after all. Sure, they could start sending out messages to everyone to see if anyone had heard anything. Problem was that about 50% of deities took way too long to respond to messages, and about 30% of them  _ never _ responded at all. Not to mention - no one ever checked the facebook group.

  By the time everyone had been allowed to shower and update each other on what they knew, even Hyacinthus had come back from work. With him came Artemis, who blushed the moment she saw Apollo.

  He scowled at his sister. “You have some explaining to do.”

  Artemis huffed and crossed her arms. “ _ He _ made me promise. I’ve been trying to make him confess for weeks. Do not put this blame on me. Now, can we get to the matter at hand?”

  “We’re not done with this conversation.”

  “Fine, we’ll grab a coffee some day. Moving on?”

  “I get that you are worried,” Hyacinthus said as he sat down on the couch, “But why the emergency meeting? Couldn’t it be that he just got together with someone and took off?”

  “Eris was here, remember?” Apollo said.

  “Ah.” Hyacinthus clapped his hands together. “Alrighty then.”

  They gathered in the living room, which had only been haphazardly cleaned  _ just  _ enough that it was possible to move from the kitchen to the couch without tripping in any junk. 

  Apollo, always prepared, had found a flipboard and several pens of various colours. Hermes groaned when he rolled the flipboard into the living room, and he turned to Hyacinthus.

  “And you are sure he is still attractive, even in this century? You should have seen him when he got his first overhead.”

  “Oh, hush,” Apollo said, as he uncapped a purple pen. With a curly handwriting, he wrote  _ Dionysus _ at the top of the flipboard.

  “Alright. So we know Dionysus stayed sober yesterday. Ariadne and Hermes have confirmed. Ergo, he has not headed out on one of his drunk adventures.” He added a bullet point, which was _-_ _Not wasted._

  “Does that... Happen often?” Eleanor asked, and most of the party simply nodded. 

  “I once found him in the ball pit at a McDonalds in Michigan,” Hermes said. “We’d been partying in Istanbul. No idea how he got there, and not even he knew where he got the ferrets.”

  Apollo wrote at the corner of the paper with a thin pen: _ Note to self - get Dio chipped. _

  “Drunk Adventures™ is out of the picture. Next?”

  Hyacinthus tried again. “Found someone and followed them home?”

  “Not without telling me,” Ariadne said.

  “I am confused,” Eleanor mumbled, and Hermes leaned in and whispered. 

  “Dio is the god of orgies, so-”

  “Moving on!” Apollo said loudly, while writing  _ -No ONS _ . “Next idea?”

  “Loki?” Ariadne suggested.

  “This time, it’s rather Eris,” said Artemis and rose from her seat. “And we are thinking of this all wrong. We shouldn’t be searching for Dionysus. We should be searching for Eris!” When the others simply looked lost, she groaned. “Eris saw Dio last, right.  _ Eris _ is a troublemaker. Eris  _ knows  _ where Dio has ended up. Do you really think if something happened, then Eris would just let Dio wander off on his own without her joining the party?”

  Eleanor raised a hand. “I just want to remind people that I am new to this. Could someone give me a quick introduction before we move on. I feel like I need a notebook.”

  “Of course!” With enough enthusiasm that he accidentally knocked over a cup of coffee - which Artemis barely saved from spilling all over the table - Hermes took flight and posed in air. “As you know, I am Hermes.”

  “Oh boy,” Eleanor groaned. 

  “I am the god of messengers, language, trade, shepherds, tricksters-”

  “And thieves, don’t forget to mention that to the cop.” Ariadne added.

  “And thieves, yes. Robert of Loxley was a great dude. Not to mention, I am also the father of the baby to be, for those of you who have not heard the news.”

  Hyacinthus handed Artemis a 10 dollar bill.

  “This tall dude who could really use a haircut-” Hermes floated over to Apollo and put his arm around his shoulders. Apollo blused. “Is Apollo, current god of the sun, but also god of creative arts, healing, prophecies, et cetera et cetera, he has a lot of hobbies. He is also my older brother. We didn’t really get off on the best foot, but then he swore he was gonna love me no matter what shenanigans I get up to, and we’ve been tight ever since.” 

  “Hermes, I don’t think Eleanor needs a full on detailed intro about  _ everyo _ -”

  “And this!” Hermes flew to lounge over Artemis, pretending not to have heard anything. “Is my older sister, Artemis. Twin of Apollo-”

  “I am the oldest.”

  “We’re  _ twins _ , it doesn’t matter who is older-”

  “She is the goddess of hunting and the moon, forever a virgin, a true aro-ace role model, strong independent woman type of gal. Next to her is Hyacinthus. Former prince of Sparta. Formerly dead. Not dead anymore. We still don’t know how that happened, but you’re currently living under the alias Oliver, am I right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Good to have you back, dude, we should hang out sometime. This lovely lady right here is Ariadne, former princess of Crete, meaning we have a lot of royalty here today. Funfact, she was dead once too, so you guys have a lot in common. Do not let the resting-bitch-face fool you, she is a sweetheart-  _ sorry sorry, don’t throw that pillow on me! _ Ahem, she is also the wife of Dionysus. The goddess in question is Eris, a goddess of strife and discourse, basically, a straight up bitch. No one wants her at their party, yet you kind of have to invite her. She started the Trojan War all out of spite for not being invited to a wedding. And I guess that was-”

  A sound like crackling fire, a blinding shimmer of white moonlight, and there stood a woman carrying two torches and a not very happy expression.

  While the rest of the group regained their bearings, Hermes coughed and continued.

  “And last, but not least, the goddess of witchcraft and magic. Give a hand to - Hecate!”

 

Hecate sipped her tea with calm dignity.

  Apollo was still digesting the story she had told them, and it seemed so did everyone else, because no one had said anything since Hecate had finished.

  Finally, it was Eleanor who spoke up.

  “Again, I’m new to this. Who  _ is _ Zagreus, and why would Eris think it natural to merge him with Dionysus?”

  She looked to Hermes, who shrugged. “Zagreus was a kid. A child of Zeus and Persephone. The Titans killed him, because Zeus proclaimed Zagreus to be his heir. It was a long time ago, way before my time. But I am not sure what Dio has got to do with it.” He looked to the others, who were just as lost as him. Hecate took her cup from her mouth with a sigh.

  “The truth was only revealed to a few of us. Athena, of course, it was her idea. Zeus and Persephone, naturally, as the father and mother of the child. Me, as Queen Persephone’s consort. She told me everything I did not already know when I was first involved. I have… say a  _ feeling _ that Hera might know. But not even Semele truly knew what was going on.”

  Ariadne huffed. “Or me, I suspect, since this doesn’t make any sense to me?”

  “Naturally, it wouldn’t,” Hecate said, her voice calm as always. “You did not even know Dionysus before he was purified by Kybele.”

  “And what does that have to do with anything?”

  Carefully, Hecate put her cup on the table. “The murder of the child was a terrible thing, not just because it was a toddler. But for symbolic reasons. Other children of Zeus have been in mortal danger too, of course-”

  Apollo, Hermes and Artemis all lifted their hands and nodded in agreement, as if in a secret club.

  “But Zeus had proclaimed Zagreus to be his heir. When Athena found the child, torn to pieces, she saved the only part of him still intact - his hearth. They had me make a potion to control his rebirth. Zeus kept it until he found a woman he thought would be suitable to carry his second-born child, and made her drink it.”

  “Wait,” Apollo said, his hands up. “Why not just have Persephone have the child again?”

  “Because the woman needed to be impregnated immediately after absorbing the heart, by Zeus himself. Even if Zeus bothered to lay with the same woman twice, he couldn’t. The potion needed time, a lot of time, to finish. Persephone had been taken by Hades, they had married before the potion was ready. Zeus does many questionable things, but he would never sleep with the wife of his brother. Well. Maybe he would. But he didn’t then.”

  “Then who did he give it to?” Apollo asked, but he already knew the answer. 

  Hecate smiled, just a visible stretch of her lips. Her eyes shone.

  “To Semele, of course. To the mother of Dionysus.”

  “But… But… Why didn’t we know?” Artemis asked.

  “It was to be kept a secret. Even Dionysus himself was to be hidden until he was grown. This was both to keep him from Hera, the not-so-loving step-mother, and from anyone who wanted to harm Zeus’ reborn heir. Dionysus himself did not know. But he was  _ wild _ . Persephone was not yet a queen of the Underworld when she bore Zagreus, but she was fated to be. Dionysus Zagreus, as you may call him, bore that darkness in him too. Do you not remember him?”

  “Teenage rebellion,” Hermes said. “And let’s be honest here, we were  _ all _ a bit wild back then. I mean-” he laughed and gestured to Apollo. “Remember that shepherd who told you about me stealing your cows? I turned him to stone.”

  “Not the least terrible thing you’ve done,” Apollo said with a shrug. “But I get what you mean. People still give me a bad reputation for having Patroclus and Achilles killed."

  "Especially after that Miller book, I guess?"

  "You know, I read that, it made me almost feel bad about it.  _ Almost _ . I mean, Patroclus was a good egg, but Achilles was a real- Oh, Eleanor, don’t worry, we’re all a whole lot nicer now!” 

  Eleanor nodded slowly, but her eyes were wider than they had been. “Nice to know.”

  “Yes, but Dionysus Zagreus was more than that. Remember, he was technically a  _ demigod _ , not even a full fledged god yet. Yet he had powers more impressive than most demigods, and believe me, he could have been much more powerful had he searched deeper into himself, had he  _ known _ his true heritage. Kybele knew. She saw it. Hera had made the boy mad, and Kybele recognized there was more to him than Hera’s curse. That there was a potential there that left unchecked could become destructive. This would not be a suited heir for Zeus, it could very well be that this heir would be who ended the reign of the Olympians. Much like how Zeus ended Kronos, and how Kronos ended Uranos.” Hecate turned to Ariadne. “You have his amethyst?”

  “Yes, here.” From the pocket of her skirt, she pulled out the pendant. It reflected the light from the windows, and cast purple spots on its surroundings. 

  Hecate held out her hand, and Ariadne dropped the crystal into it.

  “Kybele gave this to Dionysus,” Hecate explained. “It was to help him channel his emotions, to keep him less violent, to keep him clear of mind and sober. But she also made it so whatever was still left of Zagreus in him would not grow into it’s full power. She had carved much of the old heir out of the new one, but not all. That, his soul would not have survived. This amulet would make it impossible for the scattered pieces of his soul to once again merge with that of Dionysus. Unless he left it, of course.”

  The group fell silent for a long moment while Hecate finished her tea. 

  Finally, it was Ariadne who spoke.

  “But how will we find them?”

  As on cue, Artemis’ phone made a twitter. She pulled it out of the pockets of her hiking pants, and checked the message.

  “Apparently that won’t be a problem.”

  “Why?”

  “That was one of my hunters.” Artemis held her phone out to show them the text. “There is a huge party going on in a forest in Greece, and  _ everyone  _ are invited.”

 

  Greece. There really was no place like home. 

  They were in the north, following a dirt road upwards through the pine forest. Even from here, they could hear the distant music and cheering of the party. It was already evening, and Apollo could smell the bonfire smoke.

  Everyone had been invited, Artemis had said. They had left Hyacinthus and Eleanor, but still the group seemed too large. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. It felt like they were a small army, heading to battle. But that surely wasn’t it, was it? They were just going to check in on Dionysus, make sure he was fine, make sure whatever ritual he had just gone through hadn’t worn him out. That was it, right?

  Yet, they were all in their godly forms. Artemis and Apollo carried their bows over their shoulders, and they walked with their backs straight and eyes set forward.

  Finally, orange flames lit up the otherwise black and white forest, and the thin layer of snow that had covered the ground was here melted away. 

  A breath of summer.

  Hecate’s torches and his light had kept them warm on their short hike, but there was no need for that anymore. It didn’t seem the partygoers were cold either, based on their miniscule clothing. Most only wore thin layers of fabric - shawls, chitons, dresses, tunics - and Apollo got a case of dejá vu. He swallowed away the lump that had formed in his throat. He had attended many fun parties like this, but those thrown by Dionysus -  _ young  _ Dionysus, that was - were always too wild, even for him. 

  Honestly, they had been too  _ bloody _ .

  He smelled it the moment he stepped over the threshold between snow and moss. Sweet and sour. Few had bothered to soften the scent by cooking the meat by the fire.

  It was not Dionysus who met them, and Apollo wasn’t the least bit surprised. It was Eris herself.

  She grinned, her teeth sharp and her lips red.

  “Welcome to the feast for the risen,” she said, and bowed ever so slightly. 

  It was Ariadne who stepped forward and took the lead. “Where is my husband?”

  “Enjoying himself. And so should you, lo-ove! We have plenty of wine and meat.”

  “I do not need to be served. Lead us to him.”

  “O-oh, dear. Of course.” 

  Eris led them through an arrange of fires, of nature-spirits and satyrs, of mortals singing, until they came to a large pine tree where pillows and blankets had been laid out. There rested Dionysus, a cup in his hand, and nymphs by his side. His himation robes hung loosely on him, but he didn’t seem too concerned with how he dressed. 

  When he saw them, he grinned and pushed the clingy nymphs aside to stand up.

  “Finally! My family! Have Eris not offered you drinks?”

  His voice was changed somehow, and it gave Apollo the chills. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what was wrong about it. Perhaps it was how eloquent he sounded, despite clearly being drunk off his ass?

  Actually, all of him had changed. The grapevines in his hair were gone, replaced by an ivy wreath. Around his neck hang - not an amethyst - but an identical crystal of black obsidian. From his head grew a set of horns. Down his chin and throat were red lines of spilled… Something.

  Worst was his eyes. They weren’t as Apollo remembered. Dionysus had purple eyes, deep purple. And they were sometimes soft, sometimes mischievous, sometimes shining with laugher. 

  But these were red, and though he smiled, his eyes seemed calculating and expectant. 

  He walked up to Ariadne, his arms out, still the drinking cup in one hand.

  “Wife! How I have-”

  Ariadne stepped forward and poked him hard in the chest. “What the Hades, Dio? What the  _ fuck? _ You’re coming back,  _ right now _ -”

  “Oh, darling, don’t be like that!” 

  Her breath hitched as he threw his arms around her and kissed her neck. Wine spilled from his cup and down the back of her robes.

  “Get  _ off _ ,” she commanded, trying to push him, but he only changed the grip, and held her around the waist with one arm instead.

  “Brothers. Sister. Consort of my mother. Have you come to join the party?”

  Artemis gave off a sound, almost like a growl, and grabbed Dionysus’ hand. She bent it, forcing him to let go of Ariadne. “Dionysus, what do you think you are-”

  “Oh, I am sorry, this must be a misunderstanding,” Dionysus laughed, withdrawing his hand. He didn’t seem to be hurt at all.

  “A misunderstanding?” Apollo asked.

  “Yes, too bad Eris did not explain it clearly to you. There isn’t any Dionysus here!” He turned around full circle, as if looking for this strange man they were asking for. 

  Hermes rolled his eyes. “Dude, checked a mirror lately? No, don’t answer that, I can see you haven’t.”

  Dionysus laughed. “I know what you mean, but you see.” He paused, a silence Apollo knew was only for the theatrics, and he  _ hated it. _

  “ _ I  _ am  _ Zagreus _ .”

 

  They all looked at each other, unsure of how to proceed. Finally, Hecate reached into the flame of her torch, and pulled out a wetwipe.

  “Zagreus, your face. What would you mother say?” And she walked up, and handed it to him. 

  Zagreus’ smile faded and he hesitated, but finally he took the wetwipe.

  Apollo grimaced. “Is that wine, or blood?”

  “Or ketchup!” Hermes added optimistically. “Could be ketchup!”

  Zagreus grinned again. “It’s not ketchup, I can tell you that much.”

  Okay, now Apollo felt sick.

  Hecate took back the now dark wetwipe, and simply burned it in her torch. “I need to return to Queen Persephone, and inform her about the circumstances. You-” and she looked to Apollo and Artemis. “Go to Olympus and talk to Zeus. Eris’ magic is all over him. Something is wrong.”

  “What?”

  “Later.”

  And with a flash of moonlight and the crackling of fire, she was gone.

  So they were four. Alright, that felt a whole lot less hostile.

  “Now, wife, brothers, sister - will you join our celebration?”

  “No, thank you,” Apollo said, speaking for the whole group. “We would like to see you home, with us, so we can talk and find out what is going on and what has happened to Dionysus.”

  “And how to get him back, if it’s true that you are not him,” Ariadne chimed in. 

  “Back, Dionysus? No, I am sorry that is not a part of my plan. I mean, there are several parts of if, indeed, but that is not one of them. I was thinking more like. Let’s see. Revenge? Yes, I believe that was the major plot here, wasn’t it Eris. To Hera, first and formost. Kybele second. Who else?”

  “And Hera?” Hermes asked. “But. We squared things up with her? I mean,” he laughed nervously. “I wouldn’t ever invite her over for dinner, unlike Apollo, the ever so civil-”

  “Hey, we got Hebe, didn’t we? My salad was just that good!”

  “But sure, if you want to pull a prank or something, I’m game, dude, always.”

  “A prank? Hah!” Zagreus threw his hair aside. “No, the idea is more along the lines of permanent extermination. Same for Kybele, for slizing my soul -  _ our soul _ \- in two, removing me of my own existence. For reducing me to… To some sort of separate… Like I was a  _ disease! _ ”

  Apollo felt his stomach knot. There was a shift in the atmosphere, he noticed. There was less music and song between the trees, and more eyes watching them. Eyes that reflected the light of the fires.

  “Dionysus, I urge you. Let’s discuss-”

  “Zagreus, Phoebus. Must I remind you? And I will urge you - again - sit, drink, engage with whoever you wish. Join my court.” Zagreus’ voice was still deep, and the invite seemed more like a command now.

  “Court?” Artemis asked. Apollo saw her shift her stance. As an archer, he could see she was preparing to draw her bow and arrow. “What do you- Eris, what is the meaning of this?”

  Eris lay a hand on Zagreus’ shoulder.

  “A court for the future king. Or an army, depending on the situation.”

  “What?”

  “The heir of Zeus will reclaim his position, and then claim his crown. Hera and Kybele are dismissed. Imagine, Queen Persephone as Queen Mother. Ariadne - you as Queen of the Heavens. Sounds wonderful, ri-ight?”

  Apollo and Artemis shared a look. Her eyes darted towards the crowd in the forest all around them. He nodded, to show he too had noticed the change in their behaviour. Everyone had risen, slowly, from where they sat or lay, and all music had been silenced.

  They would have to teleport, he knew. Ariadne was no fighter. Hermes had a blade he could summon, but honestly, Apollo knew he was better at defence than offence. Not to mention, he was dependent on close-combat.

  “Brother, must I remind you of Xenia?” Zagreus said. “Hospitality goes both ways. I ask, one last time, that you join.”

  “No.”

  Zagreus’ smile vanished completely. 

  “No?”

  Ariadne and Hermes moved to stand behind Apollo and Artemis. Artemis finally pulled off her bow, and he noticed her hand twitch, ready to draw an arrow.

  “No,” Apollo said again. “You will come with us. We will talk to dad. And - we will call for Kybele, to make her undo this.”

  Eris too moved now, but she did not seem worried. Instead, she was smirking. Behind her, the masses changed their stance, like animals preparing to launch.

  Zagreus’ eyes flashed.

  “Fine. Have it your way, Phoebus.”

  Before Apollo could react, something hit him hard in the side, and sent him flying. He crashed into a tree, and all air was knocked out of him. As he got up on all fours, he saw a 

giant root that had pulled itself free from the ground. Rocks and dirt was falling off it, and the ground was ripped where it had emerged. It struck for Artemis, who ducked. And it continued to attack, making her run back and forth, jumping and sliding to escape.

  Hermes stood in front of Ariadne, his caduceus with the snakes hissing in one hand, and a golden sword in his other. The crowd had yet to attack, but they had closed in, giving less room for escape. 

  Apollo lay one hand on his ribs, and with a little effort, he healed them so they settled back into place. It made him slightly dizzy, but he got up on his feet and readied his bow.

  But as he knocked an arrow, he realized he had nowhere to aim. Roots were not wounded by arrows. At least this one already had several of Artemis’ in it, and she was still doing her best to avoid it. And Zagreus? He couldn’t aim an arrow towards Dionysus, or at least, his body. Maybe he could hit him with a plague arrow, make him sick enough to be overtaken? He tried, but the arrow struck into a second root that had risen to protect Zagreus, who grinned.

  “Teleport!” he called out, but Hermes barked back.

  “Do you think I’m stupid? You try and see how far you get!”

  He focused, trying to channel his inner Dorothy by thinking of home. 

  It didn’t work.

  “Fuck,” he whispered. This was Zagreus’ lair now, and he would not be able to get out that easily. On the other side of the clearing, he saw Eris grin at him. 

  “Then retreat!” he called, and started sprinting towards Artemis, hoping that by being two, they could confuse Zagreus on where to strike. But once again, he was struck hard, this time by the second root. By the time he could get up again, he felt something coil around him and pull him hard towards the ground. Smaller roots had grown up all around him, and were now threatening to drag him underground - whether he wanted to or not, and not to mention, whether he was physically able to or not. 

  He could feel the tension against his newly healed ribs. They were bending under the strain, giving in slowly, before they finally gave up and snapped. With so many broken ribs, it was no surprise that several punctured his lungs.

  Ichor filled them, making Apollo unable to scream. His vision swam, but his hands weren’t free for him to heal himself. The pain in his chest made him forget all about the pain that was steadily increasing around his legs and arms. The taste of ichor filled his mouth, and he felt like he was drowning. New roots grew up around his neck and throat, and they started pulling with the rest of them, blocking off the last bit of air to his body.

  Then there was a shadow over him, and some of the tension on his arm released. Hermes had come, and was using his blade to cut the roots. He was continuously cursing under his breath.

  Apollo heard laugher, far away, from hundreds of people, but he wasn’t sure if maybe they were actually in his head. He had lost all feeling in his limbs, he realized, because now he was feelin his right arm tingle and ache as Hermes massaged it.

  “Come on, dude, come on, heal yourself. Here. Your hand is on your chest now, do it.”

  Deep down in his mind, he found that spark of healing, and he sent it out through his hand and into his chest.

  Ribs settled once again, growing into place. His lungs emptied of ichor, and filled with air instead. His mind cleared. 

  Hermes continued to work on the rest of the roots, and as they snapped, ichor once again flooded to Apollo’s limbs, making him notice the pain properly. Once he could again sit - though with the support of Hermes - he started working on healing himself bit by bit, one broken or bruised bone at the time, as quick as he could.

  He was able to watch Artemis now, who had dismissed the idea about aiming for the now several roots attacking her, and had started aiming for Zagreus instead. Not a single arrow hit its goal, instead they were blocked by one root after the other. Ariadne was at them, doing her best with a small dagger and a stick. Needless to say, it didn’t help much.

  Hermes helped Apollo on his feet, and Apollo felt his mind swim again from exhaustion. He had just healed so much, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stay conscious for much longer. 

  Zagreus’ eyes turned on them, and thick roots started sprouting around him and Hermes. They waited, like snakes considering a prey, and then struck-

_ “NO!” _

  They stopped dead by the sound of Hermes’ voice, and so did the rest of the roots. Artemis and Ariadne stood frozen, unsure how to proceed.

  But Zagreus attention was on Hermes. The two stood, stone faced, staring each other down. Apollo could practically hear Hermes’ heartbeat race.

  Then, Zagreus looked away with a  _ tsk. _

__ And the world spun around him and disappeared.

 

  He woke in bed, still in his chiton. At first, he thought he was on Olympus, in his residence there. That was common in the mornings, when he felt disoriented. It happened less and less frequently, as Olympus gradually lost status as home to him, in favour for this apartment on Earth.

  There were voices, barely hearable through the door, but he was too tired to focus on them. Instead, he turned his focus inward.

  Not much physical damage. He had never gotten around to heal the busted veins all over his body, and he could feel the soreness and pressure of the bruises. He sighed.

  The mattress moved slightly under him. He turned his head and opened his eyes, and saw Hyacinthus, sitting on the floor while resting against the bed. His eyes seemed red.

  “You idiot,” he whispered. 

  “Glad to see you too.”

  Hyacinthus huffed, then sat up and stretched. Apollo watched him, only almost too tired to appreciate him.

  “Was I out long?”

  “You came back from Greece around two yesterday afternoon. It’s almost ten in the morning now.

  “Did you sleep?”

  Hyacinthus answered with a shrug. Then he reached for a water bottle on the nightstand. “Here, nectar. You ought to heal yourself, you’re more black and blue than tanned. But energy first.”

  As Apollo sat up, he felt his whole body ache. He had healed the bones and lungs alright, but his muscles were stiff too, and the many bruises made moving uncomfortable. In addition, his head hurt from dehydration. He took the nectar offered.

  “Slow down,” Hyacinthus urged, but Apollo downed the whole bottle in one go. It made him gasp for breath after, but he instantly felt better. 

  Limb by limb, Apollo started working on the bruises and torn muscle filaments. It took time, and halfway through, Hyacinthus offered him a piece of ambrosia to help him regain the energy he had almost spent. Once finished, he let himself fall back onto the bed again. He lifted the covers, bidding Hyacinthus to join him. The other man sighed, then crawled in and nuzzled up against Apollo.

  They lay entangled without speaking for some time, while Apollo felt himself doze off again. It seemed Hyacinthus did the same, because their breathing synched into a steady, sleepy rhythm, and the caressing thumb on his back stilled.

  His hair smelt sweet, Apollo thought. The almost overwhelming scent of flowers. He hoped it would linger on his pillow.

  He wasn’t sure if he had actually fallen asleep again, but it startled him when Hyacinthus spoke against his chest, so he assumed he must have.

  “We were discussing what to do next.”

  “Mhm.” His mind wasn’t really operational yet, but he wanted to be updated.

  “Artemis told me Dionysus - I mean - Zagreus, could have won easily.”

  “He could. All he had to do was set his dogs upon us.”

  The arm around his waist tightened. “Hermes said he let you escape. You were in a sacred place, and he must have allowed you to teleport out.”

  “Yeah. I think... I think he wanted to prove something. To show off. To scare us into submission. Something like that.”

  “Good tactic. Did it work?”

  Apollo thought about it. “We won’t be able to convince him to come with us. We won’t be able to stop him from doing whatever it is he plan to do. And without that, we won’t be able to find out what has actually happened, so we can fix it.”

  “In other words, you need help. I assume you’re thinking the same as everyone else?”

  “Yeah,” Apollo said, his eyes narrowing. “We need to talk to Zeus.”


	18. Three Gods and Picking a Bro up from Daycare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to talk to Dad about what to do about his rogue resurrected son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make it easier:
> 
> Semele = Thyone. Thyone is the name of Semele after she became a goddess
> 
> Rhea = Kybele (Cybele). Kybele is one of the aspects of Rhea. Rhea nursed young Dionysus, but it was as Kybele she cleansed him from Hera's curse.

  Zagreus fiddled with his obsidian. Two nymphs slept by his side, but he couldn’t sleep himself. He was unsettled and awake, and no matter how many glasses of wine he was offered, his mood would not lighten. 

  Not that he was in a good mood in general. For his short existence without his counterpart, he had felt pain, confusion, rage, malicious extacy, a handful of other things. But not straight up joy. The closest he had been to joy had been when he had seen faces that reminded him of a time before his carving. Before his banishment from his own body. But it had been short lived, so he didn’t really count that emotion. It had died too fast - the very moment he saw their worry and frowns. 

  Ariadne - Eris had told him about her. She was beautiful, but he couldn’t see what had made Dionysus fall for her. He had supposed he would find out, but alas. Could you miss something you had never had? 

  No, he didn’t think he could.

  Apollo and Artemis, he remembered them. Not that he remembered much. He had been young and carried from place to place. It wasn’t like he had gotten a lot of visitors the places he had grown up. But he had met them. At Rhea’s, he thought. They had visited, Hermes had brought them.

  Hermes. 

  Hermes had looked…

   _Disappointed_.

  The obsidian was cold under his fingers.

  Oh well.

  Eris returned, her lips red and in sharp contrast to her even sharper teeth.

  “Lord Zagreus.”

  “Eris.”

  “More resources have come. Mortals, satyrs, nymphs, dryads.”

  “No gods.”

  “Immune, I believe, to the madness of your court. None have been compelled to come to your aid.”

  Zagreus huffed. Then shrugged. “Well, then. Do you believe we can find allies?”

  “O-oh yes. I am su-ure.”

  A Satyr came with a fresh bottle. He bowed, and handed it to Zagreus.

  “Vodka? Well, why not. This sure brightens the mood. Eris?”

  “After, thank you. I have grave news. I have consorted with many deities, planted seeds to see if they might follow you. But I believe someone might have overhead this.”

  Zagreus frowned. “Who?”

  “Hera, lord.”

  The name of the goddess was enough to sour his mood even worse. He felt the roots in the ground beneath him shake with fury.

  The satyr simply smiled, happy to be able to join the conversation.  “Oh Hera! I saw her once. She dress well- I...”

  Zagreus turned to the satyr, who abruptly shut up.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I… Uh… I saw her once, a party at Olympus, and, well, I…”

  “Eris, how many soldiers do we need anyway?”

  Eris grinned. “I am su-ure, lord, one more or less…”

  “And you said we have hunted down all the animals in this area?”

  “Yes, lord.”

  All around them, everyone looked up from whatever they were busy doing or drinking. Eyes glowed red. Zagreus sat back down on his throne of soft pillows and soft nymphs - who were also glaring at the satyr.

 The satyr swallowed loudly. “L-Lord?”

 “Guys,” Zagreus said as he opened the bottle of vodka with a twisting movement like he was snapping the neck of someone. “Dinner.”

 

  Apollo didn’t like to be back on Olympus. He knew it was stupid. He knew it was hard to explain. Being on Olympus made him feel restless. 

  Nothing seemed to change much. Sure, there were some new children once in a while. Doomed to be deities without worshippers, and therefore, without much responsibilty. The flowers in the gardens were replaced if needed. Old traditions and styles had mixed with the eras that had passed, so he could walk amongst old columns, look upon art from the span of four thousand years, and then see a god playing tetris on his phone.

  But still, the majority of the atmosphere was unchangeable. And that was unsettling to him.

  On Earth, things changed. People changed. Countries changed. There were always someone new to meet and talk to, and new bands, and new books.

  Olympus, to him, had become old and dusty.

  Maybe that was the reason he prefered Hermes’ and Dionysus’ company to most other deities (except for Artemis, of course). There never seemed to be a boring moment if the two of them were around to mess things up. 

  The throne room - the megaron - was still the same it had been thousands of years ago. The same colourful frescos. The same woven carpets. The same open hearthfire. The same throne with the same king resting on it.

  It was the formalities of it that gave him flashbacks. Standing there in his chiton and laurel wreath, his bow over his shoulder and arrows ready on his back. His father in his old robes, lightning flashing in the curls of his beard, a lightning bolt in his hand. 

  Apollo much prefered to see his father at a Greek café, wearing a charcoal sweater and slacks. The two of them sipping coffee or tea and talking about the news.

  The formalities also demanded that they bow for Zeus, but thankfully, he then stood from his throne to greet them with an embrace and kissing their cheeks, the same way for him and Hermes as for Ariadne and Artemis.

  He put a heavy hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “How is Earth treating you these days? I hope to see you back on Olympus in due time?”

  Apollo smiled politely, but chose to avoid the last question. “Odd things have happened. Good and bad. We are here for the bad right, now, and we can meet some other day to talk about the good? It’s too complicated to get into now.”

  “Of course, complicated news are better shared with a warm drink, I say. Right now we only have the cold. Ganymedes?”

  Apollo had never really understood how his father’s cupbearer was able to be ready with cups and drinks within a few seconds notice, but there he was, preparing it on a tray. He brought a cup to Zeus, who took it with a soft smile.

  “Gany,” Hermes grinned, and offered his fist, which Ganymedes bumped with his own.

  “Hermes. Thank you for getting those cans of beer for Solstice. They’ve been really popular, I am almost out already.”

  “I’ll hook you up with more anytime, dude. I got them directly from Ægir himself. Did Dad get you something nice?”

  “Oh, you know,” Ganymedes smiled. “After so many thousand years, things clutter. We went to an Opera instead and- oh, Queen Hera.”

  At the entrance stood Hera, her face unreadable. She stood as a reminder that they were here in an errand, not just to see family. On her head sat a crown set with peacock blue gemstones, and she wore a long sleeved velvet dress that brought a brush of modern into the otherwise old-timey place. Long, dark hair fell down her back, and it moved gently from side to side as she made her way up the throne room.

  “Queen Hera,” Apollo and Artemis both said, bowing. Ariadne curtsied. Hermes frowned, but a sharp elbow from his sister reminded him of his manners, and he bowed too.

  Hera nodded, a gentle and simple acknowledgement of their greetings. “I expect you do not come bringing good news?” 

  She directed her question to Hermes, being the appointed messenger of the group. He straightened his back. “No, I don’t. But I guess you already know?”

  “Rumours,” Hera confirmed, and she took her husband by the arm and lead them to their seats. “I wanted to hear it from you. I trust you to tell me the truth when you bring me a message, even though I know you have a silver tongue experienced with lies.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  Artemis elbowed him in the ribs again, and Hermes winced.

  Apollo stepped forward.  “Father, we’ve come to talk about Dionysus. And… Zagreus.” 

  Zeus choked on his nektar. Ganymedes hit him on his back, and soon Zeus could sit up again. His voice was still hoarse when he asked. 

  “What?”

  “Eris and Hekate restored Zagreus to Dionysus’ body.”

  Zeus looked to Hera. “You _knew about this?_ ”

  “Simple rumors, just today. Eris has been pulling strings, looking for deities willing to follow Zagreus.”

  “Willing to follow…? I believe I need a bit of intel here. Hermes!”

  Hermes took flight and bowed once again, this time in the air. “On the day the year ended, we had an awesome party. To which, Eris found herself invited - because of course, I ain’t stupid. And during this feast, it so happened that our brother by Jove, thyself, was spirited away by Eris to the realm of Hades. There, she convinced him to drink a potion by Hecate - never leave your drinks unattended, I say - one which replaced the spirits of Dionysus and Zagreus, so that Zagreus again roam the Earth. Here in Greece, he has gathered a drunken army, and though how they should be able to fight Olympus being hangover as fuck, I do not know, but such it is. His powers are great, and Apollo had his ass kicked-”

  “Hey!”

  “-So we have come to you for guidance. In other words-” Hermes crossed his arms. “Dad, we found out about Zagreus and seriously, you should have told us, also can’t you learn to keep it in your pants, because I am starting to recognize that seventy percent of our problems usually happens because you had kids. Not to complain too much, because I am personally a pretty damn great bastard.”

  Hera smirked, only slightly, and turned to her husband. “Your offspring is making mischief again, darling.”

  Zeus had put his head in his hands, and was groaning loudly. “I thought Rhea had fixed this whole mess.” Then he looked up, his eyes cold and determined. “Restrain him. Bring him to Rhea for...”

  “Maintenance?” Hermes suggested.

  Zeus snapped his fingers. “That thing.”

  “Should have gotten an extended warranty, Dad.”

  “We cannot!” Artemis said. “We need more gods on our side for that. He has the powers of Dionysus, and he used them against us. We couldn’t get close to him alone.”

  Hera’s smirk had faded. “As your father and king said - restrain him. Go to Hephaestus, have him forge you bonds that can not be broken. If Eris is involved, then bring Ares, as a replacement for you.”

  “What?”

  “Rhea likes to live secluded. Where she is, we do not know. You and your hunters will have to track her down. But Zagreus can not wait. The rest of you will have to deal with him and Eris while Artemis finds Rhea.”

  Zeus coughed. “Honey, may I remind you it is _I_ who is the ruler here?”

  Hera raised an eyebrow. “And you disagree with my orders?”

  They stared at each other, then Zeus sighed. “No.”

  “As I thought. Report back to us on your progress. Artemis, you should leave right away. I believe the last to talk to Rhea was Demeter.”

  Zeus, as if trying to get the last word in, hurried to add “And be careful!”

 

  “I’m off,” Artemis said the moment they were out of the throne room. “I need to gather all my Hunters, and get started. Keep me updated?”

  She shook hands with Hermes and Ariadne, and hugged Apollo. “Do as Father said, be careful.”

  “Of course.”

  Then, in a flash of moonlight and a scent of forest, she was gone.

  “Heffy, then?” Hermes asked, but before they could take off, Hera called.

  “Apollo, a word before you go, if you please?”

  “Oh. Alright. You two, wait for me in the garden?”

  Ariadne scowled. She wasn’t quick to forget and forgive, and had never been very warm towards Hera. But Hermes grabbed her shoulder and lead her along. 

  “Come on, we’ll go see if we can find the muses.”

  Hera walked Apollo to a balcony with a view over the gardens. Warm nectar was already set out for them. An Olympian version of offering someone coffee or tea, and Apollo suspected that was Ganymedes doing.

  “Sit, please,” Hera said, and Apollo took one of the chairs and poured nectar into both cups.

  They drank quietly, while listening to faint music from the gardens. Apollo was certain it was the muses and Hermes singing. They always had fun doing karaoke together.

  “Apollo, I wish to talk to you in private about this whole matter.”

  “You have my full attention.”

  “I want to be sure I know where I have you,” Hera said. “You have always been faithful to Dionysus, so have Hermes and Artemis. Ariadne, of course, but she is hardly a threat.”

  “A… Threat?” 

  “Eris is looking for traitors, it has reminded me to check in on our… family.”

  “Strong words coming from you.”

  Hera huffed. “If Zagreus asked you-”

  “He already did ask.”

  “Oh?” 

  This had clearly surprised her. She put down her cup.

  “And here I am,” Apollo continued. “And so is Artemis, Hermes, _and_ Ariadne. Does this answer your questions.”

  “For now,” she said. “Thank you, Apollo.”

  Apollo knew he had been excused, but he remained seated. “What is it that you fear, Hera? A second Troy?” 

  “I am careful, Apollo Latôios. The return of an heir? No matter what happens when you go to restrain him, this will cause a shift amongst the Olympians. Why do you think Zeus hasn’t proclaimed an heir since Zagreus died?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Because by saying you have an heir, you are saying you acknowledge you might someday be incapacitated. And _that_ leads to uncertainty. I need to know, once this whole ordeal is over, and Dionysus again sits in his seat on Olympus at our next council, who will the others see in his place? Same old Dionysus Eleuthereus, free of worries, or Dionysus Zagreus Aisumnêtês - the king to be? Apollo, please, calm down, you’re glowing again.”

  It took him three deep breaths to steady himself, and for his glowing to fade away. Then he asked “You fear an heir? But is that only because you fear for Father? Or would it have been fine, had it been one of your own children who had been chosen to be next in line? Ares, I assume? Or Eileithyia, I admit, she would be a wonderful leader.”

  “I do hope,” Hera said, her voice again light and friendly. “That we will never have to discuss that particular topic.”

  Finally, Apollo stood, and straightened his chiton. “Fine, Hera. You want an answer? I can’t give it to you. What will happen in the future, who knows. But as of right now, I have a brother to go and pick up from daycare. He is grounded.”

  “Take care, Apollo,” Hera said as he turned and walked away. “And thank you for the scarf I got for Solstice. It was _just_ my colour.”

 

  It was already dark when Apollo, Hermes, and Ariadne stepped foot on the island of Vurcanu North of Sicily. Apollo instantly felt more tired again. It was hard to accept that he had lost so many hours sleeping, only to take off teleporting again. He sure hadn’t seen much sunlight the past couple of days. 

  They had landed on the side of the volcano, on an unusual ledge tiled with red bricks - the entrance of Hephaestus’ home, hidden from mortal eyes. Hermes took the lead, and stomped on the bricks in a rhythmic sequence. 

  “I just _love_ this,” he said, grinning. Apollo noticed that the wings on his sandals were stretching, as if getting ready for work.

  Ariadne shrugged, but there was a smile at the corner of her mouth, and she had bent her knees slightly. “It’s alright.”

  “Well,” Apollo said. “I _hate_ it.”

  And just as Hermes’ finished his tapping, the ledge tilted under them, and they fell into darkness.

  Apollo would never, never, never admit that having a tunnel slide entrance was cool. And it totally wasn’t when it was completely dark! Good thing he could turn himself into a huge portable light bulb, but the first time he had fallen down the lem, he hadn’t been all that quick to think, and the whole thing had been rather scary. It would also have been a lot more enjoyable if he knew where the loops and twists and turns were, but it seemed the slide changed for every time he came here. Even though the weightless feeling to his guts was fun, suddenly being upside-down without warning was not.

  Hermes’ and Ariadne’s screams of joy echoed in the tunnel, but Apollo bit his lip, and waited for the inevitable end. Soon, he could see a spot of light, which grew larger and larger as they reached the end of the slide. With a shock to his body, they tumbled out on a soft, bouncy floor of moss. Not so soft was Hermes’ crashing into him, and he wondered if maybe he had bristed a rib again. 

  “ _Off_ ,” he grunted, and pushed Hermes away. His brother just laughed.

  “Sure, play grumpy! Here, take my hand.”

  Ariadne was brushing small pieces of moss off her skirts. “But it’s a good thing we can teleport out, because I think climbing up again would be a lot less fun.”

  The room opened into a larger, circular room, with loads of mismatched, but beautiful furniture. All around the walls were doorways, only covered by thin curtains. Through one of them, a woman called.

  “I’ll be right out with coffee! Just have a seat wherever.”

  Hermes removed his cloak and hat and threw it on one out of several coat stands. Then he threw himself onto a couch, and stretched. “Nice and warm here, as always.”

  Through a doorway, a woman came, carrying a tray with five cups of espresso. “As always, Hermes. And it’s good to see you.”

  Apollo took the tray for her and set it on a table. “It is wonderful to see you too, Aglaea. We need to see Hephaestus. Urgently. I don’t think we really have time for-”

  “There is always time for Xenia,” Aglaea said. There was no stressing around her, Apollo knew, and she always moved like she had all the time in the world. She practically flowed, moving gracefully as she picked up one of the cups. “Not to mention, our coffee beans were particularly nice this year.”

  “Self grown?” Ariadne asked, and Aglaea nodded and gestured towards one of the openings, where golden sunlight shined through.

  “I have a greenhouse here. It was all Demeter and Persephone’s idea. They wanted me to help them experiment with growing crops in volcanic ash underground. Demeter loves to keep up with modern agricultural experiments. The moss floor in the entrance is grown on ash too.”

  Apollo took his coffee and sipped it politely while the others chatted. Years of practice had made him better at handling impatience, and he focused on breathing and the taste of the strong espresso. 

  Finally, once they had all finished being polite and hospitable, Aglaea lead them to one of the doorways and held the curtain for them. She handed Hermes the last cup.

  “Take this down to him, and do make sure he eat the food I brought him earlier? He keeps forgetting.”

   There were no slides for the last descent into the earth. Instead, there was a long stairway of volcanic rock, which finally led them into a room which had to large enough to fit an airport. Red fire and lava threw a flickering warm light, which fell on every surface. Golden and bronze robots - automatons - moved in between several forges, work benches and welding equipment. From the center of the room, they heard Hephaestus’ voice.

  “I am going to need an iron rod. Dimension two centimeters. And I need the die tool set. No, just bring me the whole set, that one would make the screw thread five millimeters two small.”

  They made their way through the clutter, Hermes simply by flying. At some point, Apollo knocked over a random box with pieces of metal welded together, but an automaton simply swept in and started picking it all up for him.

  At the center forge of the room, Hephaestus stood with a broken automaton, while others ran to and fro getting tools for him.

  “Talk about having a screw loose, huh?” he said, not even turning around. “With some people it’s just a tad wobbly, with others it’s fallen right out and disappeared into the lava.”

  “And what about yours?” Hermes asked, flying up to him and handing him the small cup of coffee.

  “Ah, you know,” Hephaestus put away the caliper he had used to measure a hole in the head of his automaton. “Got all my nuts and bolts where they should be, it’s just the legs that needed a maintenance round.” He knocked on the braces on his legs, then laughed wholeheartedly.

  Ariadne walked up to him and kissed his cheek. “Hi, Hephaestus. Good to see you. Sorry the coffee is cold, Aglaea insisted we finished ours before coming down here.”

  “Nah, no problem. See.” He reached out and held the cup over the glowing embers in the forge, and damp started rising from the coffee. Then he downed it in one go. “Small things, these espressos, but they have a lot of kick in them nevertheless. Kind of like you, heh, Hermes?”

  Hermes simply grinned. “I prefer energy drinks, but sure.”

  Apollo reached out, and him and Hephaestus grabbed each others hands and embraced. While they had their arms around each other, Apollo closed his eyes and searched with his mind. There were several cuts, bruises, and minor burns, which he healed right up while he was at it. It took some energy off him, but if only he found some food soon, it would probably be alright.

  “Long time, no see,” he said as he let go. “You know you’re both been invited to our parties, right.”

  “Not my scene, Apollo. But if you’re having a quiet dinner at some point, we might show. Anyway, I suppose I will be stopping by in a few months, delivering toys?” With that, he reached up and smacked Hermes on the back. “Again, am I right? What number are you at now?”

  “Three-hundred-and-seventy-two.”

  “Geez. You’re almost worse than your father.”

  Apollo coughed, loudly. “Though it’s really good to catch up, we are actually here in an urgent matter.” And he went through the whole story.

  “I have just the magic you need. Hold on.” Hephaestus picked up a crotch and limped over to a random rack of shelves. There, he rummaged through the trinkets, bottles, and boxes, until he found what he looked for. He returned with a small jewellery box in gold, decorated with what to Apollo looked like drakons, entangled in a pattern. 

  “I recognize this art,” Hermes said. “Dwarf made?”

  “Exactly! Thank you again for setting me up with that penpal. Those dwarves in Svartalfheim sure know their stuff. In this box right here,” he said, and shook it, “are leftover pieces from the chain _Gleipnir_ , which holds the mighty Fenrir Wolf. Here-” He opened the box to show then was looked like a simple ribbon of silk. “It doesn’t look like much, but it’s unbreakable. If I use a snippet of this mixed with the same metal I used to capture Aphrodite and Ares, you can be sure to have unbreakable chains. Chains that can’t even break at Ragnarok, and trust me, Gleipnir _will_ break at Ragnarok. And I can make them so that they inhibit the powers of the captured. You will practically be dealing with a soft powerless human.”

  Hermes grinned at Apollo and Ariadne. “I knew that penpal program was going to turn out lucky for me.”

  Hephaestus took the box and limped over to his forge.

  “Go back upstairs to Aglaea in the meantime. I’ll have your chains ready by dinnertime.”

  “May I stay?” Ariadne asked. “I am curious to look more at this ribbon.”

  “No problem, it’s nice to have someone to chat with while I work. And I suppose you could really use a peaceful talk right now?”

  Ariadne simply nodded, and sat down next to the broken automaton.

  “Actually,” Apollo said. “Me and Hermes have an errand to run while we wait.”

  “We do?” Hermes asked, but he grinned. He kind of reminded Apollo of a dog. Say anything along _errand, run, travel, visit,_ or _The Park_ , and he just lit up and practically ran to get his leash.  

  “I know how to make this task way easier.”

 

“What took you boys so long?”

  Thyone stood in the doorway of her home in the forests of Thebes when they arrived.

  She had that immortal mother aura Apollo recognized so well. It didn’t have anything to do with age. Thyone had been a young Semele when she had bore Dionysus. But like with Leto and Maia - his own mother and the mother of Hermes - she had chosen a slightly more mature age. Still, people would probably give her an odd look if she said she had a son in his mid twenties (or at least one who chose to look like he was). Thyone didn’t look like she was much older than her late thirties.

  That aura had more to do with the way she stood, the way she looked at them, the way she expected something from them.

  It wasn’t the royalty in her. It was the simple knowledge that she had children, and that this child was her responsibility. Even though she had been dead for his whole childhood. But nevertheless, she was both mother and grandmother, and she wore that on her stance.

  She also wore a leopard print blouse and a stern motherly expression.

  “The only message I got was a simple text with _‘Dio is gone, if you have seen him, call me’_. Really, Hermes? Talk about making a mother worry!”

  “Sorry, Thyone,” Hermes said, and he kissed her cheek. “We brought you pizza? Extra olives?”

  The frown let go of her face, and she did her best to hide a smile. “Typical you, trying to make up for it in bribes. You are aware one of my closest neighbours is a pizzeria?”

  Hermes blushed. “We stopped there before coming here. That’s why the civilian clothing.”

  “Shopping local, I like it. Come on in, then.”

  “So,” Apollo asked as he closed the door behind them. “I suppose we should tell you what has happened?”

  “No need. I have some iced coffee for you, if you want it with the pizza? Sit down, I’ll go get it.”

  They were escorted to the dining table, and Apollo was suddenly happy they had changed back into modern clothes when stopping for food. There was a whole other aspect of awkward to be in a modern home, eating pizza, in a chiton. 

  “You mean you’re already informed?” he asked as Thyone put out glasses of iced coffee, together with three small glasses of rakomelo. 

  Of course, Apollo thought. Could any relative of Dionysus _not_ serve alcohol?

  “Well, yes. Ariadne called, of course. Sweet girl. But she wasn’t even the first to get to me.”

  “Then who?”

  “Eris, of course. Hermes, take a napkin. You look like a maenad who just tore apart a rabbit with her bare teeth. There you go. Yes, first Eris came here, with her propaganda of a new and more wasted tomorrow. Then Hera, dammit. She had to come and rub it in, didn’t she? With the _Didn’t Zeus ever tell you about the potion_ , etcetera etcetera. I must say, I much prefer her on our monthly girl’s night out-”

  “Wait, what?” Hermes said, his mouth full.

  “Swallow before you speak, Hermes. Anyway, she’s so much less uptight when she’s had a few shots of Ouzo.”

  “No, seriously, what?”

  “But now she was all riled up, I think. She hid it well, but I believe she was worried what this might mean for her. I’ve been trying to get a hold of Rhea, Persephone, and Zeus, to get a proper explanation from them, but those three are just impossible when it comes to phones.”

  “Is my mom on that girl’s night out?”

  “Of course she is. She and Leto. It started with an annual meeting to try to keep each other updated on things, so that we wouldn’t accidentally start some sort of war between our children. And then we realized it was _a lot_ more fun with wine, and well-”

  “Back to the topic?” Apollo said. Honestly, he had buried that hatchet long ago, despite Hermes still being a bit cautious. “Thyone, we need you to come with us when we’re capturing Zagreus.”

  “Oh!” She looked absolutely delighted. “Fun! What for?”

  “You’re the goddess of the craziness of Dio’s parties, right?”

  “The bacchic frenzy, dear. And yes.”

  “I see where you’re going with this!” Hermes said, putting down his third slice of pizza. “Zagreus had everyone at that site under his control! Like maenads!”

  “Exactly, and _you_ -” Apollo gestured to Thyone using his own slice of pizza. “Can break that control, can’t you?”

  Thyone grinned. “This is going to be such fun! I’ll have to go and find my leopard skin and good underwear.”

  “Wait, why? We just need you to-”

  “Apollo, dear.” Thyone got out of her seat, and downed her drink as if it was water. When she put it back on the table, she gave him a challenging look. “I _never_ go to a party underdressed.”

  

  Apollo was starting to get that feeling again. The feeling that three is a crowd, and any more than that was a small army. 

  Because waiting for them in Hephaestus’ forge, was Ares. And nothing screamed ‘army’ more than having a guy in a full ancient Greek armour on their team.

  They shook hands, bone-crushingly strong for any human. Him and Hermes bumped fists, but Ares kissed Thyone’s cheek gently.

  Because as Hermes had once said it - _Ares drinks his ‘respecting women juice’._

  “Mom sent me,” he explained. “I would have come anyway. If Eris is causing trouble, I might be able to talk her out of it. Or, rather, shake her until she thinks straight again. Hey, are you alright?”

  Apollo sat down on whatever machinery was around them.

  “Tired,” Apollo said. “There’s been a lot of teleporting today.”

  Ares handed him a small flask of nectar. “Can’t go into a fight with your energy levels down, you idiot. Here, I mixed some protein powder into it.”

  Hermes, who didn’t get as worn out by teleporting as Apollo, headed over to Hephaestus and Ariadne, who were leaned over a workbench, doing the finishing touches of the chains.

  “Are they done yet?” 

  “Yup!” Hephaestus turned, and showed off two sets of shackles. “Hands and feet. Ariadne has the key. I thought it would be poetic, you know. Don’t mind me, I’m just a romantic.”

  Apollo rose again, and held out his hand. “I can take it for now, just in case any of us accidentally tie ourselves up.” He looked to Hermes, who blushed.

  “That happened _once_. And usually, I can open any lock, key or not! How was I supposed to know those were dwarf made handcuffs.”

  Ariadne frowned. “But, I can look after it. See.” She pulled out a chain that hung around her neck, pulling a key out from under her blouse.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that you’re not coming along.”

  “What? But… But this is _my husband!_ ”

  “You are not a fighter.”

  “Neither is Hermes!”

  Hermes looked up. “Hey! I have a sword!” He summoned his golden sword, just to show it off. “See!”

  “I beat you in armwrestling! Multiple times!”

  “To be honest, Apollo, she has beat my ass more than once.”

  “It’s still a no. If Dionysus knew we had put you in risk-”

  “He would have said it was fine because I can take care of myself. What is the worst that can happen? I can’t die, not again.”

  Apollo felt himself glow, just a little. He took a deep, settling breath. “Do you have a weapon.”

  “I… no, but-”

  “Then you are staying. Go back to the apartment and wait for us there.”

  Ariadne didn’t answer at first. She stared at him, her eyes shiny and a bit red. Then she sniffled. “Fine. _Fine!_ Just go on ahead and _leave me._ ” 

  Ariadne tore off the chained key and threw it to Hermes. She bumped Apollo’s shoulder hard when she walked past him, and though he didn’t turn around, he heard her run out of the forge and up the stairs.

  “Apollo,” Thyone said softly. “Was that really necessary? You know how much she hates being left behind.”

  “It was,” said Ares. “If she can’t fight, then we would be constantly on guard to look after her. If she can’t deal with that, then that’s her problem.”

  “I’ll check on her,” Hephaestus said, as he handed Hermes the shackles. “You should probably get going. No point in stalling, I suppose?”

  Apollo looked at the golden chains in Hermes’ hands. They were so shiny, he could see his own twisted reflection in them. It looked like a slightly mismatched version of himself - more tired and worried than usual.

  “You’re right. Let’s get going.”

 

  “They are many,” Thyone whispered as they walked through the woods. “I can feel them.”

  “Yeah, I can feel the music in my chest too. Damn, that bass is deep. Who knew satyrs liked AC/DC,” Hermes chimed in. Apollo smacked his arm.

  As they got closer to the party site, they met the first group of followers. They were laughing, and drinking and - well - but when they saw the gods, their eyes turned red and they started snarling.

  “Down,” Thyone said, and instantly, their eyes changed back. A couple in the group were clearly mortal humans, and these suddenly seemed terrified. They crawled away from the site, and then ran as fast as they could.

  But the others - satyrs and dryads - just blinked, and started talking amongst themselves, confused.

  As they got a bit further away from the remaining group, Hermes asked “What the hell? Why didn’t they run off?”

  “The humans are called here because of the powers of Zagreus and the feast,” Thyone explained. “But the others, they are here of their own free will. What we have to hope is that they are not first and foremost here to fight. I can release them from the urge to celebrate and I can release them from the frenzy and the madness inflicted on them. But if they came here of their own free will, why would they want to leave? The big problem is that I can’t take away the urge to fight.”

  “I can,” Ares said. “No problem.”

  “Good!” Thyone clapped his arm. “We’ll do good together.”

  They had finally reached the actual festivities, and a whole clearing of creatures turned their attention to them. Again, Thyone simply held out her hand and commanded them to stop. Once more, several mortals ran off, and Apollo felt sorry for them. This would be impossible to explain any therapist. A satyr yelled a battle cry, but Ares flared his teeth, and the satyr sat straight down on the ground. 

  “Leave,” Ares growled, and everyone around them suddenly had the terrible need to get out and away as soon as possible. 

  “Nice party trick,” Hermes said. “I can do a handful of things that will clear out a room in two seconds too.”

  “I don’t want to know,” Ares said.

  They made their way towards the center of the party, and soon they could see Eris flying between the trees towards them. She flashed her pointed teeth.

  “Weaklings? Why don’t you fight them off- Ares?” She stared at him, then did a 180 and flew back towards where she had come.

  “You ready?” Apollo asked. The rest nodded.

  Zagreus was already standing when they came. This time, he didn’t look welcoming at all.

  “Thyone, Ares. Last chance.”

  Thyone put her hands to her mouth. “Oh, Dio,” she whispered. 

  “No,” Apollo said, making sure he stood straight and without trembling. “ _Your_ last chance, Zagreus. Come home with us, we’ll get Rhea to fix everything.”

  The remaining followers came streaming towards them, but once more, Thyone and Ares commanded them gone, and soon they were all running away as fast as their legs could carry them.

  “You’re outnumbered, Zagreus. And we have Ares on our side. Do you really want to test us?”

  Zagreus’ eyes flickered to the golden shackles Hermes’ was carrying. “I suppose we’re done asking nicely?”

  Apollo drew a plague arrow. “I suppose we are.” With that, he released his arrow.

  He had never expected it to hit its target, of course. A root tore itself out of the ground, and the arrow buried itself deep into it. There was no time to stand still. He had learned that the hard way the last time. It was all about keeping himself moving, making him hard to hit. Roots came crashing towards him, and through the turmoil, he saw them attack Hermes too. But Hermes had it easier, being able to fly. He made sure to keep the roots away from Ares and Thyone, and swung his sword and his caduceus against the roots. Once in awhile, Apollo released an arrow, simply to make it difficult for Zagreus to pay attention to everything going on. 

  He saw two snakes on the ground, slithering between the roots towards Zagreus. One had spots in dark grey, the other in orange. Hermes’ had let his snakes go. They began to snap after Zagreus feet’, and Apollo thought maybe he saw one digging its teeth into his ankle. Zagreus yelped, and soon, small roots started sprouting all around the snakes, ready to tie them down. But the snakes were fast, and became only yet another thing for Zagreus to keep his attention to.

  While Apollo and Hermes ducked and dived from attacking roots, Ares and Thyone were busy with Eris.

  Ares yelled at her. “Eris, you idiot, come down here!”

  Eris hissed, but she didn’t escape. “Blood brother, do you not want war as much as I do?”

  “There is enough war in the world as it is. I don’t need more blood sacrificed for me. And especially not ichor! Come on down, we’ll head out, see an action movie! Get into a bar brawl!”

  “ _NO!_ ”

  “Well _fuck you then!_ ”Ares looked to Apollo and yelled. “I can try to hit her with my spear?”

  “You really are great with negotiations, Ares. How come I ever doubted you.”

  The short conversation was enough for a root to hit home in Apollo’s temple, and he found himself rolling across the forest floor. This time, he knew what was coming, and before roots could grab hold of him again, he was back on his feet shooting more arrows. This time, he tried to hit Eris, but roots kept risting to take the hits. Then again, he assumed it was harder to keep track of the arrows when he wasn’t shooting for Zagreus himself.

  “Hermes, you’re gonna have to fly around and-”

  “Already tried. But even if we did manage to get close, how are we supposed to keep him down long enough to get the shackles on? Fido bit him, but he’s not out cold yet! I don’t think his poison works on him.”

  Fuck. He had hoped the snake would be enough. Sweat was running down his back and face, and he started to seriously second guess this plan.

  Then - a light that stretched and twisted like string - and there stood Ariadne.

  She did not wear her usual modern bohemian clothes. Instead, she stood in a battle armour, similar to that of the Amazons. In her hand, she held a rope of braided silk. 

  Everyone stopped dead in their tracks, and stared at her, even the roots seemed to had forgotten their task for a moment. The helmet she wore hid her frown, but not her sharp eyes.

  “I have come for my husband. And for that bitch, Eris.”

  Even Eris seemed thrown off by this. She gaped. 

  “What-”

  But before she could react, Ariadne had loosened her rope, swung it, and let it go. It linked itself around Eris’ feet, and even though she desperately tried to fly upwards, it didn’t help. She cursed, but Ariadne grinned and pulled her down like lowering a kite. It was hard work as Eris fought by flapping her wings, but Ares and Thyone grabbed the rope and helped drag her down. Ares locked his arms around her waist and her wings, and held her tight. Eris wriggled, but there was no power in her struggle compared to Ares’ strength. He barked a laugh.

  The rest of them still stood, gaping. 

  Then Zagreus growled. With a flick of his hands, the roots went back to attacking. But this time, Ariadne was there to intervene. 

  She still held the end of her rope, and now she started swinging it around. It grew, and kept growing, increasing in length. And when she released it, it was so long it found its way between the roots, snapped against Zagreus’ neck and twisted itself around it as if it was alive. Ariadne pulled, and Zagreus lost balance and fell to his knees. He tried to force the roots to attack again, but they fell dead to the ground as if released of his control. He howled.

  “ _What?_ ”

  “Now!” Apollo commanded, and Hermes flew straight for Zagreus and pinned him down.

Apollo slung his bow over his shoulder, and him and Thyone ran for the heap that was Hermes and Zagreus wrestling. Together, they managed to shackle his arms in front, and then his feet.

  He struggled against the bonds, and gestured with his hands to roots attack again, but it still didn’t work. 

  Ariadne tugged on the ribbon around his neck, and it loosened and shrunk. “Now, Apollo, what do you think of my new weapon?”

  Apollo simply nodded, still speechless. 

  “So-” Hermes asked, his breathing heaving. “Ariadne. You’re like… Wonder Woman now?”

  “... Yes.”

  “Okay, cool... Can I have your autograph then?”

  Ares still held Eris in his arms, as if she was some kind of huge bird.

  “Did you really think this would work, Eris?” 

  Eris laughed, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “No! Not at all! But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be _fu-un_ . Tell me, what did they say on Olympus? You must have rounded up them a-all, didn’t you? Did Hestia take Dionysus’ place? O-oh, I am sure they said my name with such _regret_.”

  “Actually,” Ariadne said, and she made her voice so sweet it was sickly - a great imitation of 

Eris. “This was a-all such a sma-all issue, there wasn’t even a fondue party in your ho-onour! Your name wasn’t even _mentioned_.”

  Eris cried out in anger. “ _What? What!?_ I am the biggest threat of them all! I started the Trojan War! Had they forgotten? What an _insult_ , I am going to-”

  Ares squeezed her a bit harder, and she hissed. “I’ll take her back to Olympus. Ariadne, I need you to come with me, since you have the leash. Could you wrap that thing around her wings and arms too?”

  Ariadne looked to Zagreus, who had resolved to sitting with his head down. His hair was matted with dirt and blood, and it hid his face.

  She sighed. “Alright. Hermes, keep me updated? I’ll come to the apartment after I’ve delivered this dog to it’s owners.”

  “Sure thing, Wonder Woman,” Hermes said. 

  “Wait.” Apollo grabbed her by the shoulder, and pulled of the chain around his neck. The small golden key blinked in the lights of dying fire. Without a word, he held it out to her. 

  Ariadne smirked, and took it. 

  As Ariadne and Ares disappeared, they got one last glimpse of Eris’ black eyes. Then they were gone.

  It was strangely quiet now, Apollo noticed. No party, no fighting, only the sound of bonfires crackling, but even those were slowly dying now that no one tended to them.

  Thyone looked to Zagreus, who was still sitting still with his head down. “Son, what do you say for yourself?”

  Zagreus mumbled, and Thyone sat down on her knees beside him. “What did you say?”

  “I said,” Zagreus repeated. “ _Fuck. Off._ _Laikàs._ ”

  Thyone gasped, and then growled (which Apollo had to admit, was the exact same growl he knew from Dionysus). It looked even more animalistic since she had her leopard skin over her back.

  “Fine. Whatever Eris has done to you, it must have been bad. Because if _my_ son ever said something like that to me, I’d take him by the ear and drag him to Tartarus. But clearly, you’re _not_ my son. Apollo, Hermes, let me know when my boy is right at mind again. I am going to go and have a talk with Persephone, us mothers need to keep each other updated.”

  Thyone teleported, leaving behind only a faint scent of wine. Zagreus bent his head down again.

  There was silence. Apollo looked to Hermes, who now looked sad and tired that everyone else were gone. It was as if without the audience, he had let a mask down. Apollo realized just how much he hated that, because it derived his brother of everything that made him _him_. Not having anything to say to make it better, he reached out and put his arm around him. Hermes sighed and rested his head against Apollo’s shoulder.

  Around them, bonfires burned out and died. There were no animals or birds left, and the forest seemed unnaturally silent in the darkness.

  After a long time standing, Zagreus finally mumbled.

  “Do whatever you think to do with me, and get it over with.”

  “What do you think we have planned?” Apollo hurried to ask. He could feel that Hermes’ breathing was slightly shaky and uneven, and wanted to spare him from the pressure of talking before he had it back under control.

  Zagreus shrugged. “Carve me out again, I suppose. Remove me from this body I used to be a part of.”

  He said it with such nonchalance, Apollo felt as if a big red flag had just been hoisted. That had been the plan, at least, what he assumed the plan was. But now…

  “First, we’re taking you back home. Then, we will wait for Kybele.” Zagreus shrugged again, and it made Apollo a tad annoyed, to be honest. “Don’t you have anything you want to say about that?”

  No answer.

  Apollo sighted. “Fine.” He grabbed Zagreus’ upper arm with his free hand, and with a simple thought, he teleported.

  There was a thug in his stomach, a change of perspective, a sound like a strong wind, and then his feet were once again on hard wooden floors. 

  He let go of Hermes, and hoisted Zagreus on his feet.

  “You need a bath. I’m filling the tub, and you’re going to get clean, no arguing. Hermes-”

  Hermes looked up. His eyes were red, and there were bags under his eyes.

  “Hm?”

  “Get some sleep. I don’t want this guy to be alone-”  

  “Can I take a leak without you watching like some perv?”

  “So I’ll stay with him. We can swap after you’ve had some rest.”

  “But, you’re worn out from teleporting,” Hermes said, and Apollo noticed how thin and weak his voice was.

  “Sleep. Now.” 

  It was an order, and Hermes had gotten the message. He nodded, then staggered off to his room. As the door closed behind him, Apollo turned to Zagreus.

  “That language you used on Thyone. Don’t you even _think_ about using it on him. Understand?”

  “Or what?”

  There was that rush of annoyance again that forced Apollo to have to close his eyes and count quietly to himself. After, he took Zagreus’ chin in his hand and forced him to look up.

  It was unsettling to see Dionysus face, but with eyes shining red, and with such an indifferent glare.

  “Or I will do as Thyone said, and drag you by the ear to Tartarus. Do we understand each other?”

  No answer, but Apollo took it as an agreement.

  “Good. Now. Time for a bath. You reek.” 

  “What? No nymphs to give me a sponge bath?”

  Apollo opened the door to the bathroom and practically showed him in.

  He didn’t feel the least bit bad about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not support the use of exotic furs for clothing (and I only support the use of skins and furs if the animal killed is used for other purposes - such as cow leather, reindeer skins, wool etc). I think Thyone just kept her old one.
> 
> Here are some more pinterest collections for you:
> 
> Hermes: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/hermes/  
> Dionysus: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/dionysus/  
> Apollo: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/apollo/  
> Artemis: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/artemis/  
> Hyacinthus: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/hyacinthus/  
> Ariadne: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/ariadne/  
> Eris: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/eris/  
> Aphrodite: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/aphrodite/  
> Hypnos: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/hypnos/  
> Hera: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/hera/  
> Persephone: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/persephone/


	19. Three Gods and a Trip Down Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermes tries to understand Zagreus past, and Hypnos steps in to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. This chapter contains loads of stuff that might be triggers. Attempted rape, attempted suicide, blood, violence, all that stuff. The story of Dionysus is a bit… rough. But it’s okay to skip the chapter if you need to.  
> This is an AU, and therefore, this story of Dionysus’ past is not a complete and true reflection of all the myths. These are my versions of them, in order to make them fit with the main plot. Things might happen out of order from the original myths, simply for the purpose of storytelling. 
> 
> Here’s a couple of Pinterest collections to set the mood for the chapter:   
> Dreamspace: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/dz-dreamspace/  
> Hypnos: https://no.pinterest.com/bfire92/hypnos/

 

 

According to Hermes, Zagreus was mediocre company  _ at best _ . 

  Him, Apollo, and Ariadne had set up a very simple guarding schedule which ensured that Zagreus was never alone for any extended amount of time, and everyone got two thirds of their day off for sleeping and downtime. 

  Hermes had suggested they move Zagreus out of Dionysus’ room and into the living room, because that was where the TV was, but Apollo had refused, claiming it was best for everyone if the room stayed the same, despite the craziness going on.

  Well, the joke was on him, because Hermes had simply set up a screen and consoles in Dionysus’ room. There, he and Ariadne could sit on bean bags by the foot of the bed, and game while  _ technically  _ watching Zagreus.

  Hermes had asked if he wanted to join. His hands were after all shackled so he had them in front, and even though they had tied the shackles to the bed with Ariadne’s string, he could have played if he wanted.

  But he didn’t. Which, Hermes supposed, was fair. He didn’t seem very comfortable with modern devices yet. Usually, he would sit quietly and watch, and a few times Hermes had caught him watching him when typing away on his phone. 

  So Hermes supposed Zagreus was not  _ all _ boring. He was at least curious. Which, okay, did not make up for him trying to bite Hermes on several occasions. 

  But after three days of waiting for Artemis and Rhea, everyone were starting to get a case of cabin fever. Even Zagreus seemed grumpier than usual, because when Hermes once more tried to invite him to play -  _ “This time it’s Binding of Isaac, I think it will be right up your alley” _ \- Zagreus had flared his teeth at him and promised that next time he tried to take him to the bathroom, he would personally bite Hermes’ very annoying wings off. 

  Hermes did not assume this was a joke. Zagreus had some seriously pointed canines, and he did not feel the need to have his ear pierced.

  He had mentioned it to Apollo and Ariadne when they were all together in the kitchen.

  “I don’t think he sleeps much,” Apollo said. “At least, he hasn’t slept on my watch.”

  “Not on mine either,” Ariadne agreed, while pouring herself a glass of wine.

  This had Hermes seriously concerned, and once he was alone with Zagreus again, he took out his caduceus.

  “Do you sleep?” he asked.

  Zagreus sat still, propped up on pillows in Dionysus’ bed.

  “Of course. Everyone does. Even deities.”

  “No, I mean, have you slept lately?”

  The only answer was a huff, and Zagreus looked away.

  “Listen man, if you can’t sleep, I have Fido here, ready to help.”

  “That won’t work on me. I am connected to the underworld. Snakes have little effect on me. Besides, I do not wish to sleep.”

  “It’s not like we’re going to take a sharpie and draw dicks on your face.”

  Zagreus looked unamused.

  “Alright, maybe I would, because you sure act like one. But really, not sleeping can seriously harm you in the long run. Why would you  _ not  _ want to sleep? Are you having nightmares?”

  This made Zagreus snarl, and Hermes was reminded of just how sharp those canines were. “You know nothing of me.  _ Exóloio _ .”

  “Sure, fuck you too, then. Either, you sleep, or I find a way to  _ make  _ you sleep.”

  There didn’t seem to be an answer for this, so Hermes marched out of the room.

  Apollo was out. Ariadne was asleep in Hermes’ room. Hermes let his snakes loose, with a stern look to Rodney.

  “I need you two to watch Zagreus. And  _ no escaping _ .”

  The snakes hissed.

  “No, no escaping. You know this is serious, and I won’t be gone more than half an hour. But! You’re allowed to bite him.”

  This seemed to be an agreeable arrangement, because when Hermes opened the door, both snakes slithered in without any complains.

  He stood for a moment and listened at the door, but nothing happened except for faint sounds of hissing. 

  Hoping they would manage without him, he teleported.

 

  Most parts of the underworld were dark. Dark and silent. 

  Apollo had once asked him why he had taken on the job of escorting souls down there, it being so dark and gloomy. But Hermes assumed Apollo was against dark and gloomy places as a principal, and that was why he couldn’t see the beauty of it.

  Asphodelflowers grew here and there, escaped from the fields. There was no natural sunlight, but they managed anyway. The only light came from stange radiating things. Flowers, mushrooms, crystals, worms, moss. They threw a colourful lightshow, and Hermes had been sure to point it out to a lot of LGBT+ souls that he had lead there.  _ “Look at that. A free Pride Parade Disco!” _

  His experience was that the newly dead could use some jokes to lighten the mood.

  Not too far away, he heard the sound of a river - the river Lethe, and he followed a pathway lined with red poppies. It lead him to a cave, it’s entrance poorly hidden behind a curtain of moss. Here, there were so many poppies that Hermes almost felt drowsy with the scent.

  He knocked against the stone walls, but there was no answer from inside. Not that he expected there to be. Quietly, he lifted the moss aside, and stepped in. 

  Crystals in the roof helped light up the interior of the cave, which was lucky, because otherwise he might have tripped on the sleeping figures on the floor. He shook his feet, and the embroideries on his shoes unstitched and turned into flapping wings. They bore him over the snoring bodies, and towards a large ebony bed in the middle of the cave. There, two more figures slept, their breathing soft and heavy.

  Hermes sored over the two, a man and a woman, both with long, dark hair that flowed together. The man had them both covered with one of his large wings. Another set, these growing out of temples, rested over his eyes like a make-shift sleeping mask.

  Hermes poked one of the smaller wings.

  “Hypnos, dude, wake up.”

  The man kept dreaming.

  This time, Hermes reached down, grabbed the wing carefully, and rubbed it.

  This made Hypnos shift in his sleep, and after some time, he stretched and yawned.

  “What?”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  Hypnos frowned, his eyes still adjusting, but then he grinned.

  “Hermes. Hi!”

  “Wing bros,” Hermes said and offered his hand. The two did a rather complicated handshake they had practiced for the last two-thousand years.

  “I need a hand with something,” Hermes explained, and he sat down on the bed. The woman only mumbled in her sleep.

  Hypnos stretched, and Hermes could hear the bones in his back crack. “Alright. I suppose I could use some fresh air. I think I’ve been sleeping for… Four years? When did Trump get elected again? I decided to just sleep through the whole thing.”

  “I get you. Totally. But this is a complicated manner. I’ve got this kind of half brother locked up in Dio’s body, and he won’t sleep.”

  This made Hypnos seem a lot more awake. “What?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way. Wanna help?”

  Hypnos considered it.  “Can’t your snake do this?”

  “Doesn’t work.”

  “Alright.” He leaned over the sleeping woman, and kissed her temple. “Pasithea, I am going out. Dream of me?”

  The woman opened her eyes, only slightly. “Mhm. Bring home something pretty for me?”

  “Of course.”

  And with that, she fell asleep again.

  “Graces,” Hypnos shrugged. “They enjoy shiny things.”

  “Saw her sister the other day. She’s growing coffee beans.”

  Hypnos grimaced. “I know. We got a bag for Solstice.” Then he pulled away the covers (and some of both his and his wife’s hair) and stepped onto the floor.

  Hermes pointed to his star patterned pyjama pants. “You leaving the house in those?”

  Hypnos simply smiled, and his clothes transformed into thin robes with specks that shone and shimmered, as if he had pulled the night sky down and made fabric of it.

  “Better?”

  “Thumbs up. 10 times more presentable.”

  “Hermes, your shirt says _ ‘get in loser, we’re doing buttstuff’ _ .”

  Hermes looked down at his UFO shirt. “Good point. You win. Let’s go.”

He did not know what he had expected, but it being  _ this  _ easy had not been on the list. Hermes simply opened the door, made sure his snakes were turned back into charms on his bracelet, and then Hypnos stepped in and spread out his wings. Zagreus didn’t have time to as much as frown, before he dropped back down on the pillows and fell asleep.

  “That’s it?” Hermes asked.

  “That’s it.”

  “Wow. Okay, I feel like I seriously owe you one, for taking all the trouble by coming here only to to flap your feathers.”

  Hypnos stretched out one of the wings. “I don’t mind. Now I can spend some time finding something shiny for Pasithea.”

  Without hesitating, Hermes opened the drawers on Dionysus’ bedstand, rummaged through it, and handed Hypnos a ring with a red crystal. “Will this do? Take it as payment.”

  “You stole that.”

  “Hey, that guy is wearing out Dio’s body by not sleeping. I am sure he would be grateful.”

  Hypnos hesitated, but then took the ring and put it on his pinky. “It is pretty. But-” he looked to the now sleeping Zagreus. “That crystal right there, that is the one with the real power in here.”

  “What, this?” Hermes gestured towards the obsidian resting on Zagreus’ chest - a twin of the amethyst he had refused to put on again.

  “I can feel my sister’s magic on it. Is he being… problematic?”

  “You could say that.”

  Hypnos nodded to himself. “You won’t be able to take it off, but it’s cursed. When Rhea comes, she will have to deal with it. It wouldn’t surprise me if it has made it hard for him to sleep. She has changed the obsidian, turned its powers inwards on itself.” He reached out with his wing, the feathers hovering over the black pendant. “Obsidians are healing. They remove stress, reflect negative energy. This does all the opposite things. But as I said-” he drew his wing back. “You will need help to remove it.”

  Hermes looked at Zagreus. Now that he was sleeping, he looked more like Dionysus than he had before. Sure, the horns were wrong. And he usually didn’t wear ivy anymore, he mostly let his grapes grow. But it still looked like his brother.

  Then again, he supposed it  _ was _ his brother. Family was odd with gods. If they so chose to be, they really could be family. If not, well, then they weren’t.

  “I wish I could understand him. Why he is like this. I don’t think it’s all because of the crystal.”

  Hypnos chewed his lip, and Hermes frowned. “What?

  “I could help you out there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sleep is a gateway for many things. I might not be Mnemosyne or my sons, but I can let you into their domain.”

  Hermes crossed his arms. “Memories and dreams?”

  “You know Odin, do you not?”

  “Yeah, he’s a pal of mine.”

  “Didn’t he give you a rune set? Go get it, please. And then I’ll explain more.”

  “Ariadne is sleeping in my room. I don’t want to wake her.”

  Hypnos lifted an eyebrow.

  “Oh. Right. You’re doing magic stuff. Be right back then.”

  Ariadne didn’t move at all when Hermes opened the door to his room, and not when he started looking through his drawers. Finally, he found the pouch of runestones, hidden underneath some wrestling magazines, and he walked quietly out and back to Hypnos. 

  Hypnos started searching through the pouch, picking up one and one stone and inspecting the symbols on them.

  “Do you know runes?” Hermes asked.

  Hypnos shook his head. “No. But I know symbols of other deities and from other mythologies, that are connected to my domain. Yes, this one.” He held up a stone with a symbol that looked almost like a hook held upside-down.

  “Laguz,” Hermes interpreted. “The rune of water.”

  “And,” Hypnos said, “Of dreams and memories. The river Lethe is connected to me, and to this. It will help us navigate in dreams and memories, even though I am usually only the gate-keeper of them. Hold it, and take my hand with your other. Just like that, good. Now, are you ready?”

  Hermes scowled. “Ready for what?”

  “To get all your answers.”

  The runestone felt cool in his hands, and he became very aware of ichor running through his veins. He remembered the feeling of river water against his skin, and the way sound changed when he dived.

  He nodded.

  “Then hold on tight.” Hypnos reached out, and lay his palm against Zagreus’ forehead.

  And the world disappeared around them.

 

  Water roared in Hermes’ ears, and he felt himself fall, then pushed and pulled. He was under water, and he had no sense of up and down. For a moment, he panicked, but then someone grabbed his arm, and lead him in the right direction.

  He broke surface with a gasp. Satisfactory oxygen filled his lungs, and he felt arms around him. 

  “To the riverbank. Come on.” 

  It wasn’t even far, but Hermes felt so disoriented, it was mostly Hypnos who dragged him along. He crawled up on dry land, rounded pebbles pressing into his knees and hands. Finally on soft grass, he let himself fall over on his back while he collected himself.

  Hypnos gathered all his hair in a soft pile, and straight up made a comfortable nest in it. The hair wasn’t even wet, and it took Hermes several long moments to realize that neither was he.

  He sat up, carefully, and looked around.

  There was a waterfall, he realized, which crashed into a pool, which split into several small creeks, which kept splitting to become thousands of tiny creeks in the forest. The source of the waterfall, he couldn’t see, because the sky was hidden by the canopies formed by huge trees. The chestnuts were in bloom, but the shaking leaves of the aspens were already bright yellow. There were huge oaks and poplars, but they grew side by side with evergreens like fir and pine. The ground was covered in soft moss, grass, and wildflowers. Ivys and wild grape vines covered the tree trunks. 

  From above, they heard distant thunder, and the sound of raindrops hitting leaves, but the light underneath the trees wasn’t the dull and grey light of a rainy day. It was warm and golden, and the air smelled more of blossoms than of rain. The only drops he could see fell on stalagmites which grew all around, like they too were just some kind of odd tree. 

  But the weirdest thing was that which was not of nature. 

  It was the doors.

  Some lead into trees. Some into boulders. But most of them stood freely with no wall to hold them. None were alike, and most of them had intricate decorations.

  Hypnos looked up, and seemed disappointed. “No stars in here, I see. I suppose it makes sense. There are no stars in the Underworld.”

  “Is that where we are? The Underworld?”

  Hypnos shook his head. “No.”   

  “Then where are we?”

  “Zagreus and Dionysus’ shared unconsciousness. Emphasis on  _ shared _ . That’s why there are contradictions everywhere - two versions of the same reality. Summer and autumn. Rain and sun. I am sure if you went looking, you would find several.”

 Hermes got on his feet, and walked up to the closest door. It was covered in flowers and moss, and the wooden door was of white birch, the surface smooth and warm under his hand.

  “And these?”

  “Memories. Doorways to them.”

  “Do I have a place like this too?”

  He turned to look at Hypnos, who smiled softly. “Yes.”

  “Can I see it? I bet it’s a mess, isn’t it. Probably not nearly as cool as this. I doubt my brain would ever decide to make a headspace with butterflies.”

  Hypnos didn’t comment, but he stood and collected his hair, still smiling. “No one should visit their own unconsciousness. Well, except for special circumstances. Amnesia. Being old and wanting to spend the rest of your life remembering. That is what can happen, you see. Once we start looking back, it’s hard to look forward again. We get trapped, either in bad memories we can’t let go of, or in a time we wish had never ended. We forget how precious it is to make new memories.”

  “Oh.” Hermes turned his attention back to the door. “I… These are private. They could be bad. This… It’s like reading someone’s diary.”

  “Yes, but no.” Hypnos reached out and tried the door handle. The door didn’t budge. “My sons and Mnemosyne, they can walk through these without asking for permission. But we must.”

  “How?”

  “Just ask.”

  Hermes grimaced. “But there is no one to talk to!”

  Hypnos lifted an eyebrow. It took some time, and Hermes got the deal.

  “Oh, yeah, we’re  _ inside  _ of- yeah, okay. Uh. Dionysus? Bro? Is it okay if we look around?”

  “You have to ask both,” Hypnos reminded him.

  “Alright, cool. Zagreus, you too, is it okay? I know we haven’t exactly gotten off on the right foot but-”

  All at once, every door in the forest unlocked with a synchronized click that echoed through the woods. It was so sudden, Hermes felt the feathers on his wings rise.

  “That’s it.”

  “And now?”

  Hypnos tried the door handle again. This time, the door opened and sunlight streamed through it.

  “You still have the runestone? Keep it with you, don't lose it.”

  Hypnos gestured for Hermes to enter first, and then they walked through the door.

 

*

 

  Persephone smiled. She was young, too young, and clearly tired, but she still smiled and laughed.

  “Aren’t you a wonderful little one? Welcome, horned child, to this world.” 

  Zagreus yawned, and closed his eyes. 

  It was warm and safe here, in her arms. As she began to sing, he fell asleep.

 

*

 

  Hermes stumbled out the door and struggled to regain his balance.

  “What the actual!”

  Hypnos, on the other hand, stepped out as if he had done it thousands of times.

  “Ah, good. I suppose this really was the first one. Then finding the rest in the right order will come naturally. It’s a real hassle if you don’t start at the beginning.”

  “What the fuck, man, what the- Persephone? Give a dude aome warning!”

  “From the mind of Zagreus, one of his earliest memories of her, of his mother.”

  Hypnos walked off and checked the other doors, while Hermes stood and regained his sanity. He supposed, it would be somewhat ironic to lose it while inside of someone else’s mind. If he lost it here, maybe Dionysus could inherit it? Honestly, he might need it.

  “Here,” Hypnos called. He stood by a doorway that seemed to hoover an inch above the ground. The frame was simply a cloudy fog, and lightning flashed in it. There was no proper door, only a curtain with golden embroideries that moved in a breeze. Hypnos held the curtain and gestured for Hermes to enter first yet again

  He took a deep breath, preparing himself this time, then walked through.

*

 

  “He will be fine! He is my child, is he not?”

  Zeus handed him a lightning bolt, while Persephone held her breath. Zagreus took it, and a strange feeling spread up his arm. Like grabbing a bumblebee, without the sudden fire that would follow. Awe turned into joy, and he laughed and giggled. 

  “There, see! He will be a fine heir, he will!”

  Persephone let out her breath with a sigh. “I am sure he will.”

 

*

 

    Stepping out was a  _ little _ easier this time. At least, he didn’t come tumbling out, just a tad unsteady on his feet. Hypnos held out a large wing that Hermes could hold on to.

  “Alright, I got this now. We go in. We see the memories from their own mind, right?”

  “Correct! And I believe that would be the next one over there, right over this creek here.”

  Hypnos pointed to a door that lead straight  into a giant stalagmite. Crowning the top of the stone was a heart, and water dripped from the trees and onto it. There, the raindrops changed in colour, turned dark, and continued running down, leaving a red trail on the mirrored double doors.

  “Why do I have a feeling,” Hermes whispered, “That I won’t like what’s behind door number three. Pretty sure it ain’t a Prius.”

  “Could be.”

  Hermes frowned at Hypnos. “Was that an attempt at a joke?”

  Hypnos blushed, and opened the door to step inside.

*

 

  He could see a second baby. It was odd, because this baby too moved the same way he did. It had horns - long, thin, pointy - just like him. Maybe it was him? He had seen something like it shiny surfaces, but not as clear and real as this. 

  “Come on baby, come here.”

  “Shhh! Don’t scare him. Whisper.”

  The other baby was moving away, even though they were both crawling? Together, the rounded the corners of the palace. His knees and hands were beginning to hurt, and still the other him did not get any closer. Zagreus sat back, tired and angry. Tears started filling his eyes, and just as he was about to bawl, someone picked him up.

  “Don’t get attached now. Don’t want you adopting it.”

  “ _ Es kòrakas _ .”

  This was not Zeus, Zagreus realized, even though the man was large and his voice was deep. He wanted to cry again, but then the mirror came back, and his breath caught. Now, he could reach out and touch it, and the other baby touched his hand at the same time. But it was cold and smooth, not warm and soft skin.

  In the mirror, he saw the others too. Large people. Scary people. And peaking out from behind a corner - a woman. She bore a crown and a dress like the colours of the feathers he had played with the other day. The large ones Zeus had shown him.

  They hadn’t tasted good.

  The woman turned, and disappeared.

  The air was cold outside, but Zagreus didn’t mind. He tried to touch the other baby’s nose. Maybe if he did it just right, he would end up touching his own?

  “Are we far enough away?”

  “Let’s just get it over with. Give me the knife. No, not that one,  _ Kèpfos _ , the big one, yeah, that.”

  The mirror was taken away, and Zagreus suddenly felt afraid again. This wasn’t home. This wasn’t normal. 

  There were hands that grabbed him, and held him hard. There was the ground underneath him. There were stars, but they were shadowed by people leaning over him. He screamed all that he could, because this was not right, this was not normal. Where was mom? 

  A huge hand covered his face, so he couldn’t breathe.

  Pain. Screams.

  And Hermes fell on his knees outside the door.

 

*

 

  “This  _ sucks _ !”

  “I am aware.”

  “I just got fucking  _ stabbed _ , man! And I’ve been stabbed on multiple occasions, and every time I say,  _ never again _ .”

  “Understandable.”

  “This is a terrible idea.”

  “Want to stop?”

  “ _ No! _ ”

  “Alright, then. A breather?” 

  Hypnos had made a nest out of his hair again, and was leaning his back against a tree, watching Hermes fly around while pulling at his hair. 

  “This is insane. This  _ is _ insane. This is  _ insane _ . This is-”

  “Insane?”

  “ _ YES! _ ”

  “We are technically inside of sanity, so-”

  “Don’t.”

  “Apologies.” 

  Hermes sighed, and let himself fall to the ground, where he sat down by Hypnos.

  “This isn’t going to be any fun at all, will it?”

  “Well, we can hunt down some good memories in between the bad ones? But I think you  _ will  _ need to look into the bad ones to find anything to help you.”

  They sat for while, listening to the neverending sounds of water flowing and dripping. Hermes’ eyes fell on a flower with glowing petals. It reminded him of the Underworld. A bee landed on it, and when it took off, it was covered in fluorescent pollen. Once again, he thought he wouldn’t ever be able to come up with something like it. 

  “Okay, let’s go on.” He stood and corrected his hoodie. Without waiting for Hypnos he took flight and started checking out the nearby doors. They didn’t feel right to him, like he was trying to fit them on the wrong place in a puzzle. Blue pieces simply didn’t suddenly fit in green grass. Behind him, he heard Hypnos get up and brush twigs out of his hair. 

  “I’ll just get it, right? When I find the right one?”

  “Something like that.”

  His eyes fell on a new door. This had two large piles of rocks by its sides, and the doorframe was carved with wings and snakes. 

  It felt. 

  Familiar.

  “What about this one?” he asked, reaching out for the handle. 

  “Which- Hermes! Don’t open-”

  But it was too late. He had opened the door and put a foot inside. 

 

*

 

  Time bent around him, flowed by and through him. There was the cold rush of water. Under him. Around him.  _ Over him _ . It filled his mouth, his ears, his nose, his lungs. Air escaped him in large bubbles. He thought he was going to drown.

  But then.

  Scorching fire.

  His hands burned, but he didn't care. The air smelt like warm flesh, and he knew he would have to throw away his clothes. He would never get that smell off. Briefly, he mourned the woman, but his mind focused on the small, warm thing in his hands.

 

He stood with a newborn. The baby was trying to stay awake, but he kept blinking, and for each time he did, his eyes stayed closed for longer.

  "As, cute! So this is the leg-baby? Hi, leggy leggy. Welcome to the world beyond leg, leg-baby."

  Zeus huffed. "Please refrain from naming your new brother  _ leg-baby _ ."

  "But I get to name him, right? I saved him, after all."

  "Because you were eavesdropping. But that is not why I summoned you."

 Hermes touched his finger to the baby’s hand, and on instinct the child gripped it. He grinned. “Alright?”

  “Hermes, you’re the fastest of the gods. You excel at hiding, at getting around unnoticed. Athena has a plan, and I need you perform it. It’s an important task… Hermes? Hermes, are you listening?”

  Hermes looked up from the half asleep baby. “I… yes! I… What? Father, isn’t he cute, he can barely keep his eyes open!”

  Zeus sighed, a thunderous groan. “And, last but not least, you are excellent with children. I can’t have Hera find this one. I need him kept out of the spotlight until he is old enough to protect himself from her, understand?”

  The tiny hand held Hermes’ finger even tighter for a moment, and he swallowed. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Keep moving him. Do not let him be long in one place. Make sure Hera can’t keep track of him.”

  “But…” Hermes looked back down to the child. His eyes had finally closed, and he was drawing deep breaths. “But a kid needs stability. A safe place. A caretaker to trust! If he is not allowed to bond properly with anyone-”

  “It is for his own good, for his  _ safety _ , understand?”

  “But-”

  “Understand?”

  There was no discussing it. Hermes bowed, careful not to wake the baby. 

  “Understand, father. Where to first?”

 

  Hermes kicked the blood-covered river nymph in the chest, and she fell back. The knife in her hand fell to the floor, and one of her sisters picked it up.

  “ _ Es kòrakas, kochòne _ ,” he warned, baby in one arm and his caduceus at the ready. The snakes hissed against the women. “I have two snakes, and I am not afraid to use them.”

  The baby had started wailing. He would have done the same in its situation. Poor child, had spots of blood all over.

  The otherwise so beautiful daughters of Lamos now looked out of their minds. Their eyes bulged, their teeth seemed sharper than usual, their long hair was matted with blood from the servants they had slaughtered. 

  He couldn’t teleport. He would have to fight his way out of there. 

  With a swipe of his caduceus, he managed to strike two of the nymphs to the ground, and leaped for the door. In the hallway lay the severed remains of the servants of the house.

  Oh thank god the child wasn’t able to see properly yet, because this was not a sight suited for kids. 

  One of the nymphs grabbed his foot, and he kicked her in the face. By the sound of it, he had crushed her nose, but it didn’t seem like she cared much. He had to kick her one more time for her to let go and fall to the ground.

  Behind him, he heard the women scream and curse, as he flew through the hall and out a window.

 

  It was dark, and it was cold. Rain hit the ground and the thunder roared. Occasional lightning tore the night apart. 

  The baby didn’t even cry.

  Hermes had curled up under a tree root, trying to keep them both warm in his cloak. None of them feared the weather. It was sent to help them, to keep them hidden and invisible. Something was out there, Hermes knew it. But the moon had been hidden by clouds, their tracks washed away by rain, their scent scattered by the wind. 

  “We will have to get out there,” Hermes whispered to the wide-eyed baby. “We can’t teleport, she might be able to track the magic. I will have to fly, I will have to fly fast. Real fast. I hope you don’t get flight sick, kid. Ready?” 

  The baby blinked, but didn’t make a sound.

  “I take that as a yes. Ready. Set.  _ Go! _ ”

  The rain hit his back with such power he almost plummeted back to the muddy ground, but he regained height and set off. In the darkness and rain it was almost impossible to see where he was going. Branches kept hitting him, and he tried to make sure they at least didn’t hit the child. The branches got thinner, then there were only twigs, and then there was the fresh open air above the forest. 

  Here, he could finally speed up. The lake couldn’t be far, they had to be there soon! The freezing air stung in his lungs, the rain make him shake of cold. And the baby, it was so small, how cold could the little one possibly be!

  Then, a roar behind him, and claws dug into his right calf. 

  He yelled in pain and surprise, and felt himself being pulled down towards the ground. But he kicked after whatever had caught him, and his left foot met something, and the claws were ripped out of his leg.

  There, he could see the ripples on the lake surface reflecting the slightest of moonlight. He knew he could escape the hydra that lived in the Alcyonian lake, but hopefully his prosecutor(s) could not. 

  “Here comes your first swimming lesson, kid!” 

  Hermes drew a deep breath - and hoped the baby did the same, babies were in general good in water was his experience - and plunged straight into the lake leading to the Underworld.

 

  “Zeus wants me to care for his boy?” 

  “Not forever. He is to be moved around, to be kept from Hera. I have some volunteers. Rhea. Some nymphes. He has mortal family. He’s been a few places already, but… It didn’t turn out well. Besides, it’s getting cold up there now. I thought maybe winter would be the right time to hide him in the Underworld.”

  Persephone stood with the baby in her arms. She seemed mesmerized, unable to look away. The baby was looking at her with the same questioning and curious look he had when Zeus had handed him to Hermes. 

  “Is he… Is he of Zeus?”

  “Yes.”

  She smiled a little. “Of course he is.”

  “Aren’t we all, huh? Big family.”

  But it seemed she didn’t hear him. Instead, she had a weak and sad smile.

  “Does he have a name yet?”

  “I’ve been calling him Dionysus.”

  That made her look up. “Dio as in Zeus?”

  Hermes grinned. “You should have seen father limp around with that foster in his leg! It was hilarious!”

  “I… Oh. Oh! I get it!” She bit her lip, but Hermes saw her eyes twinkle. Ah, so there was still some of summer-Persephone left in her. “Well then,” she said and straightened up. “I would love to care for the child. As you say. He is family.”

  “Good. I will let father know.” He limped in closer, his leg not healed yet. 

  “Are you having a leg-baby too?” Persephone asked, her voice sly. Hermes laughed. 

  “Nah, I prefer making them, not growing them, if you catch my-”

  “Thank you, that is enough of you.” She lifted her head a little, and suddenly she was more of a Queen again. 

  Carefully, Hermes reached out, and he caressed the chubby cheek of the baby. His eyes were deep purple, and Hermes wondered if there was any reason to such an odd colour. 

  “Bye, brother. I’ll be back for you.”

  The baby reached out and gripped his hand. 

  He didn’t really want to leave yet.

  “You can stay until morning. If you please,” Persephone said. 

  “I… I shouldn’t… Hera might-”

  “Don’t bother with her right now. You have work here in the Underworld. There is nothing unusual with your presence here.”

  The kid attempted a smile - toothless and still unfamiliar. It was infective, and Hermes felt himself grin too.

  “Alright, little Dio. I’ll stay a while longer.”

 

  “Mimi, stay?” 

  “Can’t kid. I’ve stayed way longer than I should already. I need to leave now.”

  “No!” 

  Dionysus clinged to his leg, and made himself heavy.

  Hermes huffed. “I am sorry, sprout. It’s for your own good!”

  “Then. I’ll come with?” 

  Oh boy, why were his eyes so big. Hermes looked up at the Aristaeus. “I am so sorry about this. He is just a tad clingy, he won’t be a problem once I go. I promise he will behave. You’ll behave, won’t you, bud?”

  There was no answer, but based on the sniffles, the boy had started crying. 

  “Hey, hey! Kid! Bro! Bud! Look at me!” He did his best to bend down, which eventually forced Dionysus to let go of his leg. His eyes were filled with tears and his cheeks were blotched with red. 

  “Little man, listen here.” He reached out and used his cape to clean Dionysus’ face from tears and snot (and reminded himself to wash it as soon as possible). “I’ll be back. I always come back, don’t I? Haven’t I always come back for you?”

  Dionysus nodded, but he was still sniffing, and new tears formed in his eyes. “When will you be here?”

  “In a few months. Listen, you know that grey bird I showed you last year. The one with the black mask and black wings?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I promise, when you see it next time, I’ll be right around the corner. Three days, tops. Deal?”

  It didn’t seem to convince Dionysus. He grimaced. “You swear?”

  “Hey, I promise on the Styx. Three days tops. Then I’ll be here. Can you wait until then?”

  After some thinking, Dionysus nodded. “Alright. When I see the bird.”

  Hermes grinned, and spread out his arms. “Do I get a hug before I fly?”

 

  “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

  Hermes spoke as soft as he could, and walked around the roots of the fallen tree. They formed a moss-covered shelter, almost a cave. And in it sat a boy.

  He was curled up, hiding his head in his arms, but at the sound of Hermes’ voice, he looked up.

  His eyes were wide, his breathing quick.

  Hermes smiled, and crouched down to enter, but stopped when Dionysus yelped and pressed up against the wall of roots, rocks, and dirt. He had grown since Hermes had last seen him, but the biggest change was the long chiton and the hair. If Hermes didn’t already know him, he would have been sure he had found a lost girl in the woods.

  “Hey, hey, kid. It’s alright.  _ I’m _ alright.”

  “Auntie, she-”

  “I know, I know. But that… that was only them. Not me. I’m the same old, alright?”

  Afraid of scaring him again, Hermes waited for Dionysus to make the next move. It didn’t take more than a few shallow breaths, then the boy threw himself forward and locked his arms around him.

  “It’s alright, I’m here.” Hermes held one arm protectively around the boy, and them moved them so that he could sit leaned against the roots with the boy on his lap. He was getting heavy, Hermes noticed, and didn’t really fit there anymore. But he didn’t mind, instead he wrapped his cape around them.

  They sat until Dionysus had stopped crying, but he was still shaking, and his breathing wasn’t fully under control. Still he drew a breath, and tried to talk.

  “Uncle Athamas. He… he just  _ changed _ . Uncle, he killed Learchus. He tried to attack aunt Ino and Melicertes. They ran. I ran… I… I don’t know what…”

  Hermes knew, but he shut his mouth. Instead, he entangled the boy from him and started removing pine needles and dirt from his locks. They had grown long while with his aunt and uncle. Anyone would assume he was a girl, even Hera if she saw him.

  “Have you been hiding here for long?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. My feet hurts.”

  It took some experience and vocabulary, Hermes knew, to explain emotional pain. The boy had been with his aunt and uncle for a long time. The longest time he had been cared for by anyone so far. He’d had cousins. Other children to play with.

  And then Hera had found out anyway.

  “You’re sad,” Hermes explained. “You’re afraid. You’re angry.” He tried to hand out words, to help explain the hurt. To teach the boy that feelings were real too, just like physical ace. “You’ve panicked.”

  Tears and dirt had mixed on his cheeks, and he was still shaking.

  “I’m cold. I think.”

  “It’s your body. It’s still afraid.”

  “Oh.”

  There were some really stubborn leaves that didn’t seem to want to get plucked from Dionysus’ hair. Hermes took one, and pulled hard. 

  Dionysus jumped and yelped, and then took to crying again.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to tug your hair!” Hermes pulled the boy back into a hug and rocked slowly from side to side. “Sorry, sorry! Did it hurt bad? Sorry, it was a leaf, see-  _ oh shit, I’m sorry again! _ ” 

  Hermes put his hand to Dionysus’ head and caressed it gently, hoping it would take the hurt away.

  And he felt something, like branches or roots in it. 

  He followed the lines.

  “Kid. Hey, kid, what are these?” 

  “I don’t know!” Dionysus hulked. 

  “Sprout, let me see. Sit up. Here, let me. The fuck, kid, these things are growing on you!”

  “What, what are they? Are they dangerous?”

  Hermes took a closer look on the leaves. Most were connected to each other in a twisting nest of vines, which at the basis disappeared  _ into the kid’s head. _

  “Holy… You’ve got ivys growing straight outta you! That is some new level demigod shit right there.”

  “But… but…” 

  “No, no, don’t freak out. Look, my wings are just the same, you know that. Look.” He pulled his hat of, his wings being dragged through the holes cut in them. Then he took Dionysus hand and placed it at one. “There. Remember, they grow from me too.”

  Carefully and curious, Dionysus poked at the base where the scalp turned into wings and feathers started growing. With his other hand, he touched his own ivy vines.

  “Oh. Alright, then.”

  Hermes allowed him to take his time. It was a distraction, something for Dionysus to focus on until his adrenaline settled. After a long time, Dionysus let his hands fall. He looked tired, worn out.

  “Where will I go now?”

  Hermes’ breath caught, but he coughed. It was the casualty of the boy’s voice that did it.  _ Where next? _ He had never had a permanent home. This had been the most permanent of them all, and then everything had gone wrong. 

  “To your grandmother,” Hermes said. 

  Dionysus nodded. “Alright.”

  That too made Hermes worry. Usually there was a scene, an attempt to bargain.  _ Please, can’t I come with you. I’ll be good. I can help. Can’t you stay here too? _

  Perhaps Dionysus had grown out of it? Given up hope. Like a dog that had finally learned there was no use in begging for scraps.

  He opened his mouth, because a selfish part of him wanted to ask if Dionysus no longer wanted to stay with him, but he shut it again. Rhea. Rhea would be safe. Not even Hera would dare challenge Rhea. Maybe he would stay there until he was ready to take off on his own?

  On his own.

  Without Hermes.

  “Do you want to take a detour? We can stay together for a couple of weeks? See the sights?”

  Dionysus didn’t answer, but he leaned against Hermes and closed his eyes.

  There, he fell asleep, worn out from panic and crying. 

  Hermes put his arms around him and leaned his chin against his head.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. In his own mind, he continued the thought.  _ I’m sorry I won’t be coming back to take you with me again. _

*

 

  Hermes felt dizzy. The kind of dizzy you get when you are wasted and the whole concept of time and space becomes less real. As if his mind wasn’t receiving enough oxygen to care about trivial things like that.

  But then he felt the ground beneath him, and it was moving. 

  Or rather he was. He was being dragged along the ground. Then it stopped, and he felt himself being held and cradled. He opened his eyes, and saw Hypnos.

  “Sorry about that, Hermes. I should have warned you.”

  “The fuck, man,” Hermes groaned, his voice was hoarse. “That was… It was just like it was real.”

  “It was, once. It was your own memories, brought to life again. You were getting in too deep, friend. I had to come in and pull you out. You do not want to linger on old memories for eternity.”

  “But… We’re in Dio’s mind, aren’t we? Dio and Zagreus?”

  “You and Dionysus have shared memories. Your own mind recognized it, and bent inwards. As if…” Hypnos frowned while thinking. “As if turning a pillowcase inside out.”

  Hermes grimaced. “Let’s both just pretend I understood that.” Sitting up made him feel dizzy again, but not as bad as before. He took a series of deep breaths.

  “How are you feeling?” 

  “Like shit.”

  “Do you want to quit?”

  Hermes shook his head. It wasn’t as nauseating anymore. “Next door.”

  Hypnos helped Hermes on his feet and together they walked up to the next door on the line. This, covered in grapevines, and above the door hovered a white, shimmering ball. 

    Hermes, still with a hand on Hypnos shoulder, opened the door, and they stepped in.

*

 

  “Give me what you’ve got, Selene!” 

  The light of the full moon bathed the field in white. The shadows were more fuzzy than the the ones cast by sunlight, yet so pitch black against the graying world that the contrast felt extreme. All colours were faded, left to black and white. 

  A bull ran across the field, and on its back sat a boy. 

  Well, not a human boy. The light shone of his horns, and he clinged to the bull using his legs - which were those of a goat.

  Dionysus ran after the bull, laughed and cheered along with the satyr. Once in a while, his feet hit rocks and tufts of grass, but his balance was excellent, and it just made the game all the more funnier. A little danger to the mix.

  “I’ve got horns, I ride a bull! Look, Dionysus! Who is the best cattle driver, me or Selene? Dionysus, who is-”

  Suddenly, as if startled, the bull speed up. It keep bucking and throwing its head around, but more fiercely than before. The satyr yelped, and tried to cling to the horns of the animal. All of a sudden, the bull changed direction, and the boy, unbalanced, slid off and fell into the bushes at the edge of the field.

  Dionysus kept laughing and ran towards the heap of shadows on the ground. “Ampelos, you idiot, I can’t believe you-”

  Laughter died. The bull took off. The world was dead quiet. The moon continued on its steady path across the sky, content with the outcome.

  In the white light, the blood in the satyr’s curls seemed black like tar. His eyes were open, but they didn’t seem to reflect the moonlight the way a wet surface usually would. Dionysus knelt down, his mind blank.

  “Ampelos?” 

  He reached out and touched his friend’s head. The blood stuck to his fingers, dark, thick, and warm.

  He swallowed several times, for his throat felt tight. Then tears started streaming down his face. The blankness of his mind was filled again, filled with black and red sorrow and anger. Sobs turned into wailing, and he cast himself over the body of the dead satyr and cried. 

  In time, the crying faded back into sobs. Dionysus’ back rose and fell more steadily again. 

  And then-

  Dionysus threw himself backwards as the corpse started glowing. The light was a deep shade of violet, leaning on red, a tyrian purple. It was so lively in contrast to the moonlight, the irony of it almost made Dionysus feel sick. 

  The glow intensified, it engulfed the body completely. It changed its form, and-

  From the ground now grew a plant. And it kept growing. It stretched out long and thin tendrils to cling to the stems of anything growing around it. Then it stopped, and stood there with fresh leaves and ripe fruits.

  Dionysus lay still on the ground, his eyes wide, his breathing shallow. 

  Before him stood a grapevine.

 

*

 

  Hermes looked up at the shining ball over the door. 

  “The moon,” he said. “Damn, Selene. Thought you were chill.”

  “You didn’t know?” Hypnos asked. He touched the leaves of the grape vines with careful fingers.

  The question make Hermes’ stomach knot. “No. I… I guess there are some things he didn’t tell me. I know he created the first grapes, and him and Rhea found out how to cultivate it and make wine. But I didn’t know… this.”

  Hypnos pointed to a new door. It was crowned with golden wings, and a ray of sunlight streaming through the canopy fell upon a thin shower of rain, throwing a pastel coloured rainbow. “That’s the next one. But you can also choose that first.” He pointed to a different door, and Hermes felt more uplifted. It was a double door of stained glass. Together, they showed a landscape of fields and forests, but on one door it was daylight, and on the other it was night.

  “We can consider it a break?” Hermes suggested. “But I think I am in that memory.”

  “Hold onto the runestone. Prepare yourself, and shut your mind. And we will be fine.”

 

  He had seen the bird. The grey and black wine flower bird. And as always, just as expected, he had heard Hermes call for him. He didn’t care about pebbles and twigs under his feet, he just ran over the fields, towards the forest.

  And there he was. As he was supposed to. Pulling off his hat so his curls and wings were freed, and grinning as if someone had just told a joke. 

  “Hermes!” Dionysus ran, and didn’t even feel sorry about making his brother fall over when he crashed into him.

  “Hey! Sprout! Well, you’re a lot taller now, huh. Can’t call you that anymore.” 

  Dionysus sat up, and smirked. “I knew you’d come today.”

  “Oh, how so?”

  He pointed towards the boulders at the edge of the field. Inbetween them, two birds flew.

  “The _oenos_ _anthos_ bird.”

  “The grape flower bird? Fun name. Did you name it after your plant?”

  Dionysus nodded. “I noticed last year that they were flowering at the same time the birds came. And then you showed up to visit.”

  “And you didn’t name the bird after me. I am almost disappointed.”

  Dionysus smacked his brother on the arm, but laughed. “Are you staying long? A month?”

  “Not a month, no, a week.”

  “Aw.”

  “Hey, it’s fine. You’ll get sick and tired of all my jokes by then. Besides, I brought someone you should meet.”

  Figures moved in the shadows between the trees, and Dionysus had to squint to see.

  Two people, a man and a woman, perhaps in their late teens. About the same age as Hermes. At first, the darkness confused him as two who was the man and who was the woman. The man had long hair, much longer than the woman’s, while she wore a short chiton, the chiton of a man. Both bore bows and arrows. When they came into the light, the rays of the sun radiated of the man’s hair as if it was gold.

  The woman knelt down before Dionysus and smiled gently.

  “Hi, little brother. Pleased to meet you.”

 

  Artemis and Hermes wrestled in the field, while Apollo plucked on his lyre and hummed a tune. Dionysus tried to watch both scenes at the same time. 

  He kind of wanted to join with the wrestling. Hermes had shown him some tricks. But he felt too embarrassed to interrupt. He also kind of wanted to try the lyre, but he was even more embarrassed to ask about that.

  It seemed Apollo caught onto his thoughts, because he handed him the instrument.

  “Have you played before?”

  Dionysus took it as gently as he could. “No.”

  “Hermes made the first lyre. It’s his invention.”

  “He… told me.” Dionysus picked the strings, but worried about sounding bad. 

  “Here,” Apollo said, and took Dionysus’ hands and the lyre. “Hold it like this. And your fingers like so. There, try to strum it, use the backside of your nails. Yeah, you got it!” He turned to the two sweaty siblings tumbling about on the grass. “Hey, Hermes, brother. You have to teach him some more music. He has talent.”

  “Of course he has talent. He is  _ my  _ brother, isn’t he?”

  Dionysus blushed, but this time, he smiled too.

  “If Hermes is your brother. And he is mine?”

  Apollo smiled gently. “Then that makes you mine and Artemis’ brother too. If you’re alright by that, of course. You can choose to say we’re not. I chose Hermes to be my brother. We have the same father, all of us, sure. But when you’re a god, family is a bit more complicated than that.”

  “Are you older than him?”

  He nodded. “At first I thought he was a real menace. But then-”

  “Then I bribed him into liking me-  _ Artemis, ouch, your knee is in my rib.” _

  “Then he bribed me into liking him,” Apollo agreed. “With a lyre.”

  Dionysus plucked at the strings. “Do I have to pay you too?”

  Apollo laughed. “No, you don’t need that. You’re a lot nicer than he is.”

_ “Hey! I heard that!” _

  With a careful smile, Apollo reached out a hand. “I think a handshake would be sufficient.”

*

 

  “That… was weird. Seeing myself from the outside.”

  Hypnos hummed. “Not to mention, so much younger.”

  “Well, you know, twenty-five is the new seventeen.” With caution, Hermes flew back to the winged door. “I suppose we better get in there?”

  “What do you think it is?”

  Hermes drew a deep breath and opened the door. “War.”

 

*

 

  Iris had come.

  She stood at Rhea’s doorstep, with her golden wings reflecting the sunlight. She and Rhea were talking, waiting for the boy in question.

  Dionysus was panting, tired form the run through the fields. When Iris turned to see him, he swallowed hard. 

  So many deities he had met. Yet Iris somehow reminded him more of his mortality than any other had done. She was a symbol that Olympus, too, existed, and that he hadn’t been there after Hermes had taken him to his first home. 

  She was reminder that he was still mortal, yet his family was not.

  Rhea and Iris stood as opposites. Rhea wore her dress, which was inspired by the Minoans. It had saturated colours in blue, red, and yellow, and embroideries of thick thread. She had the physique of a woman who had carried many children, who tended her land, and who wrestled lions. Sturdy and powerful like an oak. 

  Iris, on the other hand, wore a thin chiton with soft, translucent colours. She was slim and light, and Dionysus wondered if that was something that came with the job as a messenger. Hermes too was thin compared to other men he had met. Maybe they just never had time to sit down for too long? If Rhea was an oak, Iris was more like a slim birch. 

  She watched him with visible curiosity, and he suddenly regretted not having taken his time to fix his hair before he came running. Ivys were growing through it, and he wasn’t sure when he had last pruned them.

  “So this is the son of Zeus?” Iris asked, her voice light and sweet. “Pleased to finally meet you, Dionysus.”

  Dionysus looked to Rhea, who nodded. 

  “Pleased to meet you too.”

 

  Rhea poured wine for Iris, and she smiled proudly. “This is the drink Dionysus has made from the fruits he created. My son, Zeus, likes it, I hear.”

  Iris sipped the drink, and her eyebrows shot up. “Interesting. Like juice, but more… savory. Less tangent? Yes, I see why Zeus is so keen on this drink.”

  “Not to mention, it’s been prepared. It is much safer than most water sources,” Rhea added.

  Dionysus held back his grin.

  “Now,” Rhea said as she sat down and joined them by the table. “What is it Zeus wants of the boy.”

  Iris sipped the wine again, then straightened her back. “Lord Zeus sees potential in you, Dionysus. He believes you can prove yourself worthy to become a god.”

  Rhea gaped, but her eyes shone of pride. Dionysus let go, and allowed himself to grin. 

  “Really? I can come to Olympus?”

  Iris lifted a hand. “It is not that simple. You must prove yourself worthy. You need to gather followers, to be praised by the mortals. And to do so, your father has proposed a task for you, a task that will be the beginning of your journey to Olympus.”

  “What is it?” Dionysus was eager now. In his mind, he already formed an idea that this task would be something he could easily solve with his virtues. Maybe it was a hunt? He was a good hunter. Or something to do with his grapes?

  “Your father wants you to go to war against the Indians.”

  With that, his hopes shattered.

  “What?”

  It seemed Rhea agreed. “To war? You want a boy to lead an army? He is not even of age yet!”

  “He will be seventeen in a year, will he not? A war is not won in a month. By the time he has conquered India, he will be a man.”

  Rhea’s face was starting to redden. Two lions sleeping in the sunlight from the windows, woke up from their slumber, and started growling. “And what does the other Olympians say to this? Hera, in particular.”

  Iris shrugged. “There is discourse. Queen Hera and Hephaestus is against the whole ordeal.”

  “What about Hermes,” Dionysus asked. Whatever Hermes said, he would agree.

  “He stands neutral. He says he doesn’t mind that the Indians don’t worship us, but he will back you up if it comes to it.”

  Dionysus’ hopes sank. If Hermes didn’t actually support it, but didn’t actually  _ not _ support it either-

  “Think of it this way,” Iris said, her voice light and positive. “No one enters Olympus without hard work. The price of your labors will be a home in your father’s heavens. This will be your rite of passage to become a man. And-” her eyes shone “- to become  _ a god _ .”

 

*

 

  “You were neutral?”

  Hermes shrugged. “Dad was pissed because he couldn’t get the Indians to worship him. He claimed they only worshipped fire and water. Now, Heph said something along the line of  _ I rather like fire _ , and then the whole Olympian council kind of lost it for a while. It was sort   of a… Mini Troy?”

  “Not much mini, if you ask me. A lot of people and satyrs died.”

  Hermes pointed towards the next door. The frame was shaped like the gaping mouth of a lion, threatening to swallow the red door.

  “I think that is exactly what we’re facing next.”

 

*

 

  Dionysus and Botrys walked through the Assyrian palace with their arms around each other. Dionysus listened to Botrys’ voice as they walked - he was telling stories of his now dead father. They had just finished the feast, a celebration of the late king Staphylos, that Dionysus had insisted they throw in his honor. 

  He and his army had taken a natural stop on their way East. At least, what he had decided was a natural stop. Staphylos had shown great hospitality, and Dionysus had then left the palace to spread the knowledge of wine to the local farmers. He had hoped for yet another warm welcome when he returned, only to find the queen and her son in sorrow. 

  He had done all he could that night to make them happy again. Now, Botrys walked by his side in fresh white robes, gifted to him by Dionysus. It was so late it was early, and both felt the aftermath of heavy drinking.

  “Next, India?” Botrys asked, and Dionysus shrugged.

  “I suppose.” 

  Botrys stopped them, his arm still around Dionysus.

  “You hesitate.”

  Dionysus swallowed. “I had a dream. I dreamt that king Lycurgus of Arabia attacked me. It… didn’t end well.”

  Botrys removed his arm in order to look properly at Dionysus. “King Lycurgus? He is a horrible man, Dionysus. My father took you in when you came here as a stranger, but he! Any wanderer he finds, he has tortured and sacrificed to the gods! He leave their body parts up for decoration outside his walls, just to scare people off. His people would rather perform ritual sacrifices to  _ him _ than to the gods. You can’t fight a prophetic dream, Dionysus. But you  _ can _ fight king Lycurgus. If you must fight anyone, fight him!”

  His throat felt dry, despite all he had drunk that night. 

  “I would have preferred it if I could just keep it like it is. Dancing, drinking, throwing competitions.”

  “Sleep,” Botrys advised, shaking his head. “Tomorrow, it will be clearer what you must do.”

 

In his dreams, he saw Eris standing by his bed.  She snarled to show off her pointed teeth. Her wings spread out, dark as night, and so everything around them turned black. The world disappeared and all that existed was Eris’ voice in the darkness, and her teeth. There was so softness or fake kindness to her, only anger.

  “You sleep, Dionysus. You should be fighting, yet you are too busy having fun! Hera mocks you, you know, when you make your army dance and sing instead of going to war. How will you be able to look them all in the eye, Dionysus. Ares stands there, his back straight, holding his shield soaked in blood. Athena blames you, think of that. She, who defended Olympus against the Titans. You, who is a disgrace to your father! Hermes and Apollo laugh of you. One with his arrows stained with the blood of the Otus and Ephialtes, the other with the staff he used to slay Argus. Even Artemis denounce you, calling you Dionysus the dancer. Leto and Maia stand proud for their sons, but Semele would have been in sorrow seeing you coward. You are not like a son of Zeus, not at all. Your army drown their will to fight with wine. There will be time to feast after the battle, but without hard work,  _ you won’t be welcomed to Olympus _ .”

  Dionysus awoke with a cry.

 

Night had fallen, and in the distance, he could see the lights of the Arabian city.

  In the back of his mind, the dream of King Lycurgus still played. 

  He had been dancing in the forest, without worries. He had carried wine, and he had been singing, and everything was as he preferred. But a growl had caught his attention, and as he turned, he had seen a large lion standing on a boulder, ready to pounce. Dionysus - standing unarmed - had run, and even in sleep, he had felt the fear rush through his body. The lion had followed, and finally they had reached the sea, where Dionysus jumped and escaped the beast by taking refuge under water. The lion had then turned to the Baccai - his followers - and thrown itself at the women. There had been blood on his maw, the womens’ cymbals lay discarded on the ground, and his army had fled. 

  He had hoped to avoid that dream all together, to take a different route. But instead, here he stood, Eris’ voice in his head. 

_ Hermes and Apollo laugh of you. You won’t be welcomed on Olympus _ .

  Well, fuck. 

  He jumped when he heard Botrys call for him.

  “Dionysus? You should get some rest before tomorrow.”

  He turned and looked at the prince, who stood by his own tent. Botrys had cut his long curls when his father had died. If they had been back home, it would have been a sign of the boy becoming a man. The thought made Dionysus’ shoulders feel heavy with obligations. 

  He’d be seventeen soon. 

  And then eighteen. And then nineteen. He would be older than both Hermes and Apollo, at least, older than what they  _ chose  _ to be. 

  “In a moment,” he called back. 

  Botrys disappeared into his tent, and Dionysus was left to stand alone at the edge of the hill. He sighed.

  He didn’t feel ready for tomorrow. Maybe, if he stayed up and postponed his sleep, it would feel like tomorrow was farther away.

  “I could use some guidance about now,” he whispered into the air.

  The air answered. “I suppose I am right on time, then?”

  Dionysus spun around, a hand ready at his sword. His heartbeat sped up at an instant - then almost stopped.

  In the dim light of the moon stood Hermes, watching him.

  Hermes opened his arms, and Dionysus didn’t even hesitate. He hadn’t hugged his brother in almost a year, he realized. From his chest, he felt laughter.

  “Do you laugh of me?”

  “I… yes, sorry.” Dionysus stepped back and rubbed his face. “It’s just... It’s just good to see you.”

  Hermes smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes the way it usually did. “You’ve grown tall.”

  “I’ll be seventeen soon. Listen, Hermes, I’m really glad you’re here. Eris came to me, she said some things that-”

  But Hermes stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. “Brother, I can’t stay long. I have come to guide you.”

  Dionysus blinked. “You have?”

  “Put war aside.”

  “What? But Zeus told me to-”

  “Go to Lycurgus, he will want to learn about your wine and the rites you’ve formed with your Bacchai. Let battle be, don’t give up on peace. Be gracious, don’t dress for battle when you meet him. Bring your staff and wine. You want a feast, don’t you? Make it clear you do not want to fight him.”

  Dionysus felt the weight of Hermes’ hand grow greater. He looked him deep in the eyes, trying to understand. 

  “Botrys said he was a horrible man.”

  “King Lycurgus isn’t a coward. He is a son of Ares, after all. You don’t need enemies like that. Brother, listen to me. I don’t want this war at all, I just want to keep you  _ safe!” _

  Uncertainty filled his chest where laughter had been. Zeus wanted him to go to war, it was his only way to Olympus. 

  But… He supposed Zeus had told him to fight the Indians, not the Arabians?

  Besides, he  _ really  _ didn’t want to fight. 

  “Alright, Hermes. I’ll go to him unarmed and in peace. If that is what you think is best, I will do so.”

  Hermes grinned, but again, it didn’t make his eyes twinkle the way it had before. And before Dionysus could wonder why, he was gone.

 

Lycurgus laughed at him from the steps of his palace.  _ He _ had not come as Dionysus had - in his robes and with wine ready. Instead, he stood dressed in armour, with a stance that clearly called for action.

"Do you see these offerings hung up before my mansion?” he called, and gestured to his bloody walls. There, limbs from the sacrificed hang to dry, offered as food for the crows. Some were still fresh, and blood dripped and left red streaks on the bricked wall. “ How about you too give me some decoration for my house. I’ll be kind, I’ll accept your staff. Or your feet, or hands. I’ll let you go, then. Even better - how about you gift me your  _ head? _ ”

  As the man and his soldiers attacked, Dionysus stood in horror, suddenly very aware he had lead his followers unarmed to a slaughterhouse.

  How could Hermes have miscalculated this bad?

 

*

 

  “Great advice,” Hypnos said, and Hermes was surprised to recognize a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He had been under the assumption that Hypnos was too patient and soft for that.

  “It  _ wasn’t  _ me,” Hermes explained, but he felt his cheeks going red. It was awkward how he still felt guilty over something he  _ hadn’t _ done thousands of years ago. “It was Iris. She is a really good impressionist. Honestly, she is at Robin Williams level. F for Rob, he was a good dude.”

  “I don’t like Iris much,” Hypnos said, frowning. 

  “Why?”

  Hypnos blushed and bit his lip.

_ “Why?”  _ Hermes insisted, now curious.

“She came to me during the Indian war, pretending to be my mother Nyx,” he admitted, mumbling. “She said, if I had Zeus fall asleep so Hera could help the Indians, then Hera would be more inclined to let me marry Pasithea. Still, Hera didn’t really offer her to me before the Trojan war.”

  “That’s like. What. Two-hundred years? Damn, dude. You could have just asked her out.”

  “I’m not really good at the whole-” Hypnos gestured vaguely. “ _ Flirting _ business.”

  “No shit. Good thing she is immortal, huh, or she’d be in Hades by the time you had the courage.”

  Hypnos huffed, embarrassed, and spread his large wings to get to the next door. This was pitch black, decorated with barely visible dark snakes and peacock feathers.

  “Looks festive,” Hermes joked, trying to lighten both their moods. 

  It didn’t work. 

 

*

 

  The lion again, but this time, it was worse. Much worse, because Dionysus was pretty sure he was awake.

  He had never feared lions. They liked him, they trusted him. But this lion was  _ wrong _ . In its mane, snakes hissed. Its maw was large, unhinged, its cleaved tongue hanging out and dripping with bloody saliva. 

  And its eyes. It never blinked, but stared him down with eyes of fire. 

  In the distance, he heard sudden screams and cries for help - in several languages. The sounds of an attack. 

  His army. His comrades.

  He wanted to turn, to run for them, but those eyes held him still, making his knees shake. It took an immense effort to close his own eyes long enough to break free of the stare, and he turned to run back to camp.

  But the sounds shifted. They no longer came from the campsite ahead, but from behind him.

  He spun around again, and once more, the screaming was behind him. 

  Dionysus covered his ears.

  It made the screaming louder. 

  His throat felt sore, his chest tight, as if he was screaming too, but if he did, he couldn’t hear it. The eyes of the lion were back, staring into him, and he threw himself at them, trying to claw them out of the lion’s head. Time swam around him, he felt starved all of a sudden. Blood and raw meat filled his mouth, settling his hunger. And still the screams howled inside of his head.

  He thought he heard Artemis. Her hands were on his shoulders. Or… were his shoulders on her hands? Her voice was weak and echoed, as if she was far away.

  “Go to Dodona! Dionysus, do you hear me! You must go to Dodona.”

  Dodona. He knew of that place. Oaks. His foster mother was an oak.

  “Hera has cursed you, don’t you see. You won the war against the Indians, and she doesn’t want you on Olympus!” The world shook. Was Artemis shaking him? Or was he shaking the world. 

  More voices filled his head. Screams, people begging for mercy. He saw visions. Ampelus covered in blood. Learchos, his cousin, slaughtered. The hands of the Lamides covered in blood.

  “We can’t help you. We can’t guide you. Father would never immortalize a madman! You must fight this curse before you can come to Olympus!”

  Was he crying? He wasn’t sure. He balled his hands into fists and struck the vision of a blood covered nurse. She turned into fog, which covered his mind.

__ “Dio, brother, hear me. Hear me. Go to Dodona!”

  There was a white deer walking in the woods. The sounds of its hooved were loud as that of an elephant walking on rocks, echoing.

_ “Go to Dodona!” _

 

*

 

  “Hera sent Megaera, one of the furies, for Dio,” Hermes explained.

  Hypnos had pulled his hair around his neck as a scarf, hiding most of his face. “Zeus was asleep. He couldn’t stop it,” he mumbled into it.

  Hermes took his arm, and pulled him along to the next doorway. This stood on in the middle of a shallow pond, water reaching halfway up the driftwood door. Water lilies grew around it, and colourful fish swam between the roots.

  “You didn’t know,” Hermes comforted, before he opened the door.

 

*

 

Fog. Fog and mist and the smell of salty seas.

   “Where am I? Where are you taking me?”

  “My name is Proreus, sweetie. And we’ll take you wherever you want.” Dionysus felt a hand against his cheek, and through the spinning world and thick smell, the hand felt like coarse and dry sand. “You just be nice to us, and we will be nice to you.”

  This man reeked, Dionysus thought. Like sweat and salt. The scent was so close, so strong, it made his stomach churn. When did he last eat? He couldn’t remember anything anymore. 

  “Naxos,” Dionysus said, and his voice seemed just a whisper. “They will welcome you, I am well known there.”

  “You hear that?” Proreus called. “Opheltes was right. He did find a marooned prince!”

  The men cheered, and Proreus called again.

  “Acoetes, take us to…  _ Naxos _ . Now, little prince, we will take you to your home, you have my word. I swear by Zeus himself.”

  The ship moved and swayed, and Dionysus felt dizzy. He heard voices, voices from the real world that mixed with the never-ending screams inside his own mind.

  “No, idiot, what are you doing? Steer to the left.”

  “But… Naxos is to the right.”

  “Because, you know, we can have some  _ fun  _ first. It’s been a while since we had a woman to enjoy, I suppose a boy who looks like one is a good substitute-”

  Again, that smell was there, of sweat and salt and bad breath. There was a thumb against his mouth-

  The hand was gone, and an angry voice shouted. “Don’t! You can find yourself a new helmsman, if  _ this _ is what you do with your promises!”

  Dionysus opened his eyes, watching the men crowd around one of their own.

  “Fine! Athalion, take the helm! There, you happy now, let us have our price.”

  “No! Are you blind? Look at him! This  _ has _ to be a god. No mortal have eyes like that! Apollo, or maybe Poseidon himself. You can’t-”

  But one of the men took the helmsman by the throat and lifted him up so that the tips of his toes only barely reached the ship deck.

  “Acoetes, one more word from you, or I’ll throw you off this boat! Understand?”

  The helmsman shook his head. “Lycabas, don’t-” But the other snarled. 

  “Fine by me!” And just like that, he threw Acoetes towards the railings.

  A small thought, a will of the mind, and Dionysus felt a vine grow between the ropes on the railing. Through the fog, he felt a thug when Acoetes grabbed it, rescuing himself from falling overboard. The men laughed.

  “We almost needed a new helmsman!” one barked, but he didn’t seem the least bit worried. 

  Acoetes hauled himself back onto the deck, and lay there, his breath shaky with crying.

  “Now,” Proreus turned his attention back to Dionysus, who closed his eyes again. The world had been blurry and odd for months, and nothing felt properly real anymore. But there were hands on him, and that intense smell of men who needed a proper bath. There were lips, and laughter, and-

  And he remembered a mirror, a knife, people standing over him, silhouettes against the starry skies.

  In the depths of his foggy mind, something snapped. 

  Laughter turned to screams, and hands were dragged away. 

  In rage and fury, his mind seemed clearer than it had in months. He saw the full scene now. Sailors were crawling over the deck, their eyes wide with horror. Vines grew and stretched for them, slithering around their feet and arms, dragging them so their nails left deep furrows in the wood. By his side, mist formed into animals, large cats of all kinds, that growled and snarled.

  “What sort of glory is there to gain for strong men as yourself, in cheating one that is young and defenceless?” The animals threw themselves at the restrained sailors, and with claws and teeth, they ripped and tore in them. But instead of tearing them to pieces, it seemed the wounds simply helped the men shed into a new form. As the vines slacked, the men jumped over the railings, but the creatures that hit the water were not humans.

  Soon, dolphins jumped in the waves around the ship, shrieking in their own languages, before diving and disappearing.

  The cats dissolved, and the vines lay still. There was silence, except for the shallow breaths of the one sailor left onboard. 

  Acoetes clung to the mast, as if this would be the one thing to save him from the misery of his crewmates. His eyes were large and filled with fear. As Dionysus turned to him, the man whimpered, and clung harder to the mast.

  Some of the fog returned to Dionysus mind, but he still could walk in a straight line to the man, and kneel by him.

  “Don’t fear me, Acoetes. I am Dionysus, son of Zeus. Now sail me to Naxos.”

 

  The sea breeze made him feel slightly sick, even though he remained firmly seated where he could watch the helmsman. He had been given freshwater and new clothes, and it had helped, but the fog had returned. Once again, he felt disconnected to the world around him, barely noticing it. Whatever had woken in him had dozed off.

  Acoetes coughed. “We will be at Naxos in the morning.”

  “Good,” Dionysus mumbled. 

  “So you’re… A god then.”

  “Not yet.”

  Acoetes rose an eyebrow. “Not yet? But-”

  “Strong, but weak still. Searching.” He yawned. “Someday, I’ll repay you. When I am… more again.” And then he let the fog return to his mind, and he fell asleep.

 

*

 

  Hermes washed his face in one of the many creeks. It was cold and sweet, but somehow, he still had that smell in his nose. The smell of salty seas and sweaty men. He even jumped when Hypnos put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Sorry, I-”

  “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.”

  Hermes closed his eyes and focused on the cool feeling of water still left on his skin. He was starting to get really tired. Tired of feeling a lot of heavy emotions in just - what - an hour? Two?

  “Okay,” he said, looking to a doorway standing inside the hollowed out trunk of a large oak. “Next door.”

 

*

 

  He heard the voices of the trees. They tore through his thoughts instead of flowing through the air. This was good, because the past few months, sound and time were things that hadn’t really been working right. The doves that flew between the trees, for example. The sound of their beatings wings seemed delayed, not fitting with the vision of their flight. Besides, there were so many other sounds and voices inside of him, screaming and howling and calling his name.

  “We can not help you,” the trees said. “We can’t heal you. That is not our place.”

  Dionysus cried. He grabbed the leaves in his hair and pulled at them, ripping them out. His fingers smashed thick grapes. They had started growing from him instead of ivys when he had been starving in the deserts - his only source of food and drink. As if his own power were reaching out to help him.

  “Artemis said-”

  “Artemis said what Rhea said. And Rhea wanted you to come here.”

  “Why?”

  “Look between the roots.”

  He crawled over the grass, tired and exhausted. Dirt gathered under his fingernails and he searched between the massive roots of the largest tree - a hollow oak. There, he saw it. Purple in the green grass. Colours suddenly became too saturated, making the crystal stand out even clearer. He grabbed it, but it still took several moments for him to actually feel the sensation of it in his hand. Coarse and unpolished, cold against his skin.

  “Rhea has left this for you. You will find her in time, but she can not find you. No gods can when you are cursed. Wear this as a pendant, and it will help you control your madness until you see her again.”

  It took him a while to understand, but then he felt a leather strap. Carefully, because his hands were shaking, he pulled it over his head.

  And the crystal’s cold surface rested against his chest. 

  Sound and vision synched again, at least, more or less. Colours faded and became less irritating. The voices in his head - memories from the war - faded into whispers. His hands stopped shaking. 

  He laughed. He touched his face, as if he hadn’t really believed he was still himself. He cried. 

  Then he cursed. He growled thinking about Hera. Hera who wanted to stop him. Hera who wanted to make it harder for him to reach Olympus. She had been there at the beginning of his time, demanding his death.

  Dionysus looked at his hands, which were grimey and covered in scars and cuts he didn’t know he’d had. 

  He’d show her. 

  He’d show everyone not to underestimate him ever again.

*

 

They stood before a door which’s lifelike carvings made Hermes’ stomach churn.

  “Beautiful decor,” he said. 

  “Reminds me of that king earlier,” Hypnos remarked.

  “Maybe he started a trend. Weirder things have been in, you know. Severed limbs is the new black!” Hermes reached out, and opened the door for them.

 

*

 

  Dionysus laughed to himself, silently giggling as he hid behind the trees. From there, he could see Pentheus at the top of the pine, dressed in women’s clothing and the skin of a fawn. 

  He felt practically giddish when he called out to the maenads.

   “Young women, I bring the one who has made you and me and my rites a laughing-stock. Now punish him!”

  From his hiding place, he could see his cousin panic, but there was no way down. Soon, the tree was surrounded by women, reeking of wine and dirt. Amongst them, he saw his own aunts. They, like the rest of the women, scurried around the tree, eager to catch their prey. Some threw rocks and sticks, but though Pentheus was trapped, he was also too high up to harm. 

  Dionysus narrowed his eyes, and from the depths of his powers, he found strength to share with his crazed followers. 

  His aunt shouted to the others, ordering them to stand around the tree. Dionysus reached out, and stretched out his mind. Deep underneath him, he could feel roots grow.

  The women grabbed the trunk as best they could, and started pulling.

  He could feel the roots loosen from the dirth, and he guided them to let go.

  As the tree fell, he could hear Pentheus yell in fright. It crashed to the ground, and the man was thrown so he rolled across grass and moss. The maenads launched themselves at him, and Dionysus moved to see better.

  Agave, one of his aunts, stood over the shaking Pentheus. The man pulled off his headband and reached for her. “It’s me, mother, your son! Can’t you see?”

  Dionysus could feel her hesitate, his power over her slipping ever so slightly. But it wasn’t more of a weakness that a small thought from him set her straight again. Agave took the arm of her son, set her foot against his ribs, and became first of the maenads to claim one of his limbs.

 

  His grandfather stood before him. The colour of his eyes had faded with the years, turning dull, but there was bright fear in them nevertheless.

  “Dionysus, we have treated you unfairly, but-”

  “It’s too late for prayers now, Cadmus. You should have worshipped me when you had the chance.”

  Dionysus looked Agave, crying by her father’s feet. His mind was clear, his anger drove him, and he did not feel any remorse for the judgement he had given them. 

  “But now we know!” Cadmus pleaded. “You have already taken my heir! What good will it do to banish us, to change our forms? You are being too harsh on us.”

  He felt the heat rise in him. If the man would only shut up and get going, or he would turn them into snakes right here in their own palace.

  “Do you think I am too harsh, really?  _ I  _ am a son of  _ Zeus! _ I should be treated as such, not insulted by my very own family!”

 Cadmus looked away. Grief was taking its hold on him, and he did not look even remotely royal, standing there with his back bent and his face grey.

  “Gods,” he whispered, “should not resemble mortals in their anger.”

 

*

 

  “Bloody,” said Hypnos. “Dionysus really has a flair for the dramatics, doesn’t he?”

  “More so back then. I suppose he wasn’t exactly healed? At least he was a  _ lot _ calmer after he became a god. I’ve seen him cry for run-over cats.”

  Hypnos frowned. “Doesn’t everyone cry for run-over cats?”

  “Well, back then, he was more likely to eat small, innocent critters. It was a thing he and his followers did. The maenads continued the tradition. Did I ever tell you about Bella the chihuahua?”

  “You know, I don’t think I want to know.” He nodded towards a door, this made of a large amethyst church crystal. “I hope this one is less violent.”

 

* 

 

There was pain. Unbelievable pain. He had been torn from his limbs, torn from his flesh.

  He wanted to scream, but he had no mouth.

  He wanted to fight for his life, but he had no body to fight with.

  He wanted to cry, but he didn’t have eyes no more.

  He remembered being stabbed by dark figures, and sitting on a throne, and his father laughing.

  And he remembered his mother, who had smiled at him and welcomed him to this world. There was a longing for her, for safety, and he steered his existence towards her. 

And Dionysus awoke with a gasp. 

  He was covered in sweat, and felt cold even in the hot air. The warmth had left him dehydrated, but other than a bit of a headache-

  “How are you feeling?”

  A woman stood in the door to the bedroom, carrying a mug and a cup. Right behind her came a lion, which watched Dionysus with careful, yellow eyes. 

  It took a moment for Dionysus to recognise her. It wasn’t that she was very different. It was still Rhea. Rhea’s eyes, Rhea’s body, Rhea’s positure. But her clothes were different. Rhea had usually wore clothes similar to the Minoans, saying it represented the gods’ heritage from Crete. But now, she wore a long chiton, and a high headpiece - a  _ polos _ \- and in her belt, she had tied a drum.

  Dionysus squinted. “Rhea, what-”

  She put up a hand to still him. “Right now, I am Kybele. We are in Phrygia, and here, I go under this name.”

  “Phrygia?” He sat up straighter. “But… I was…”

  “Everywhere, more or less. You were in India when Hera made sure you went mad. You’ve been gaining followers. Starting a cult. You’re making a name for yourself, foster-son. Now, drink.”

  She handed him the cup and poured wine into it. He finished it in one go and held out his cup for more. This time, what came out of the mug was simple water. Dionysus frowned.

  “No complaining, boy. All that wine can’t be good for anyone. You forget you are mortal! At least, for now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Kybele didn’t answer, but gestured for Dionysus to drink his water. “Now, tell me, how are you feeling?”

  The water was cold. The air was warm. From outside came the sound of voices. A fly buzzed. The lion watched him, and blinked. Kybele’s chest rose and fell with her breathing. 

  All these things happened the way it was supposed to. Nothing moved too fast or too slow. No sounds were too loud or too quiet. Everything worked in synch with each other, following the same timeline.

  “I am… great. I’m healed?”

  Kybele nodded. “Artemis told me about the fury attacking you. She told me Hera had stopped her from interfering. None of us could intervene as long as you were cursed, at least, not in any major way.”

  “It got better.” Finishing his water, Dionysus stood up from the bed and walked over to the window. Outside, he saw a garden, and beyond there were stretches of fields and other houses.

  It seemed peaceful, and very much like their other home.

 He lifted his hand to his chest, still bare. 

 He could feel Kybele’s eyes on him.

  “It  _ did _ get better. Because of-” Suddenly, he became aware he wasn’t wearing the amethyst he had found at Dodona. “Where is-”

  Kybele stood by his side, a pendant hanging from her hand. 

  It was the same, yet different.  _ His _ amethyst had been coarse, unpolished. This was carefully cut into a long, pointed, shining crystal which reflected the light from the sun and threw specks of purple all over the walls.

  “An amethyst will clear your mind, and take the pain and make it kind. And make it easier to find a path you thought were lost.”

  Dionysus took the pendant, and looked at it more closely. “This is mine.”

  “I did some work on it while you were out cold. I made sure you could find it at Dodona, to help you through your curse. To help you channel it. I must admit, you have been… violent. I did not expect your madness to be focused in such a way.”

  He licked his lips, which were chapped and dry. It had been ages since he had felt anything close to remorse or shame, but now it hit him with force. It was as if his consciousness tried to make up for all the time he had spent not being able to hear it. It wasn’t until Kybele put his arm around him that he realized he was shaking.

  “It doesn’t matter now, grandson. You did what you set out to do. The mortals worship you. Your name is on every lip. Look at me.” She took his chin in her hand and made him look her in the eyes. “You did it. Zeus has called for you. You are ready.”

  “For what?” he whispered. His voice was shaking.

  “For Olympus.”

*

 

  “I was so happy,” Hermes said, his hand against the door. “To see him again. To see dad make him a god. To know I didn’t have to worry about him dying in some stupid war. Mortals, they die. If you get too attached, you’ll just end up getting hurt too.”

  Hypnos nodded, understanding. “I’ve had mortal children. They bring so much joy, but… It’s bittersweet, isn’t it? Loving someone who can die.”

  A knot formed in Hermes’ gut, and he frowned. “Sometimes, it’s better not to put your heart on the line.”

  “Does this mean you’ll stop having mortal children?”

  Hermes barked a laugh. “Yeah right. Next door?”

  Hypnos looked around. Though there were many unopened doors, Hypnos frowned while thinking. Hermes felt it too. There wasn’t a need to visit the majority of them. Only a few stood out to him. Not even these were strictly necessary, but there was still a pull towards them.

  “Almost done.”

*

 

  There came a moment where he couldn’t hide to spy at her anymore. Embarrassment had to be cast aside as he ran for her, and he grabbed her as she was on her way up the tree.

  At first, she was startled, but then, she started fighting.

  “Let me go!  _ Let me go!” _

  “No!” He said, and held her firm. First, she stopped fighting. Then, she stopped squirming. And then, she lay still.

  Dionysus let go of her, but instead grabbed for the rope she had planned to carry with her.

  “What were you thinking?” he asked, still astonished. He could not accept… Could not believe she would…

  The woman started sobbing, and she crawled away and curled up by the tree.

  “Why would you…”

  She didn’t answer, but kept crying. Finally, he threw away the rope and crawled on his knees to get closer to her.

  “There, there. It will be alright.”

_ “No-,” _ she said, choking on the word. 

  Carefully, as not to startle her, he sat besides her and lay his arms around her. At first, he thought she would hit him again, but then she caved in on her sorrow and leaned against him.

  So this is what she felt like in his arms. He had wondered, but this time, he had wanted to be more careful. There were still memories from his days carrying Hera’s curse that he was ashamed of. He had wanted to do this right, to  _ earn _ her trust. 

  And then he had chickened out and kept hidden to watch her. Artemis would have been ashamed, he thought.

  She really did smell like apples.

  After some time, her crying faded, but she didn’t move. Instead, she lay sleepy in his arms. 

  “Are you… better?” he asked sheepishly.

  “He just left,” she said, not answering his question. “He just took off and left me here to rot.”

  They sat in silence, both thinking about this. Then she said, now embarrassed. “I smeared snot all over your clothes. Sorry about that.”

  “Honestly, I’ve had worse things smeared over them. Blood and such.”

  She sat up and scowled. “Who are you anyway? Not some thief and murderer, because then you would have just let me hang myself, and robbed me after I had done all the work for you.”

  Dionysus laughed. “Nah, I’m not that lazy.” He looked to the abandoned rope. “If I were to leave you now…”

  “I…” She looked away. “I don’t think so. I was… This island, it’s driving me crazy. I haven’t seen anyone in days. Speaking of, how did you get here?”

  “Naxos is not deserted, you know. And it’s not very big.”

  It didn’t seem the answer satisfied her, but she didn’t discuss it again. Instead, she shrugged, and hugged her knees.

  “I can’t go home. I can’t go to Athens. I suppose I must just stay here. Alone.

  “As I said, this island is not abandoned.”

  “It might as well be.”

  “Then,” Dionysus reached out and took her hand. “I’ll stay with you.”

 

*

 

  Ariadne’s door had seven gemstones crowning its frame. They gleamed and twinkled like actual stars.

  “Aphrodite gave her a crown Hephaestus had made for her wedding. Dionysus had a constellation made after it, the Corona borealis.” He grinned at Hypnos. “Odin told me, according to  _ their  _ mythology, it’s a severed toe of some dude Thor had a bromance with. Ariadne is not too happy about that.”

  “Romantic,” said Hypnos with a soft sigh. “Not the toe thing.”

  “When she died, Dionysus went to the underworld and snuck her and Semele out, and turned them immortal. Semele changed her name and became Thyone. I suppose that was when Hera gave up. When Thyone came to Olympus, neither she or Dad were really interested in each other anymore. Which makes sense. Dad did kill her, after all. Dionysus was an Olympian, and I think Hera sort of approved of him once he got married and then resurrected Ariadne. Come to think of it-” Hermes scratched his chin. “Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like me much, since I never married anyone?”

  “Apollo is not married.”

  “They had a salad together. Apparently that was good enough.” Hermes looked around. There was a simple door he thought he recognized. “Hey, would you like a pint? My treat.”

 

*

 

  “Give it up, dude. He has work ethics. Flirting with a bartender? It will make you look like a creep. Not to mention, you can get the guy in trouble. His boss finds out he is gay, he is out of here. Milton Shapp ain’t governor here.”

  Dionysus shrugged.

  “He’s cute. Can’t blame me from looking at him. It’s not like I’ll be obvious.”

  “Uh-hu. Here, I got you your  _ wine _ .”

  Dionysus took his eyes off the bartender and turned to Hermes, who had just sat a glass of red in front of him, and was already holding a beer for himself. On the whole other side of the bar sat Apollo at a table of women. Hermes frowned.

  “Dude, I want to talk to you. About Pollo.”

  “Mh-m. I think I know what you mean. Good to know it’s not just me. Just to be clear, we’re not talking about him morning over Nat King Cole for two months straight, but about him being a bit…”

  “Moody. Locked up. Sour. Looking like he is about to fall asleep at every meeting on Olympus.”

  “Exactly. Okay,” Dionysus leaned in, as if there was any chance for Apollo hearing them across the room. “I am pretty sure I haven’t seen him smile for ages,  _ unless _ we’re down here. Have you talked to Artemis?”

  “She says the same. She said he has been like this for, like, decades, dude. But it’s gotten worse.”

  “What? Why... Why didn’t we-”

  “The  _ wars _ . No one have been upbeat for ages. Even Ares has been down in the dumps, having so many of his kids killed. Apollo’s  _ fine _ , when he is  _ down here _ , you said it yourself. Look at that goof. I think, you know, maybe he is having some cabin fever.”

  “And the plan? Show him a good time? We can do that, isn’t that our speciality?”

  Hermes grinned and threw his arm around him. “Exactly! Let’s help him get out of  Olympus. It’s no fun there anyway. It’s all Ares and Athena discussing Vietnam and the Dominican Republic.”

   “There is a musical out now. Julie Andrews. Apollo loves her.”

  “Good plan. Let’s do it. And whatever stupid idea Pollo comes up with, we’re in. Deal?”   
  “Deal.”

  They drank.

  Dionysus put his wine down and looked at the bartender from the corner of his eye. 

  He wasn’t sure if he should tell Hermes that-

  That he wasn’t feeling too great either.

  And he still hadn’t figured out why. It wasn’t something big, he was sure it wasn’t. He was just… A bit more moody than usual. Ever since the 20s, actually.

  “Hey, Sussie, you okay?”

  Hermes looked at him, soft and patient. There was a memory there, Dionysus thought. From a time he had been to young to even  _ think  _ of drinking with Hermes. 

  Of course, had it been worth drinking then? Wine hadn’t been invited yet anyway.

  “ _ You _ sure haven’t changed much, have you?” he said with a smile. Hermes huffed.

  “Nah, no use in changing perfection, is there?”

  Dionysus laughed, and things felt just like ever. 

  It would pass. He was sure of it. And anyway, he had someone to lean on if it didn’t.

 

*

 

  Hermes frowned as he stepped out of the pub door. 

  Dionysus hadn’t been feeling good. He hadn’t been feeling good for decades. 

  Why hadn’t he noticed it?

  Had both of his brothers started struggling at the same time, and he, who had been walking besides them, hadn’t even reacted to it.

  “Hermes, are you alright?”

  He shook his head. “Yeah. No. I… Just some thoughts.”

  “There is only one left, and we’re done,” Hypnos said, comforting him.

  But the door didn’t look comforting at all.

  The top of the frame featured a snake, and much like the mirrored door with the heart, this too had water falling on it and then from it, making it seem like poison dripping from the fangs of the snake. 

  A drop fell on his hand, but it was only cold rain. 

  “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

 

*

 

  The crowd was a homogenous and thick liquid for them to fight their way through. Or something like that. He wasn’t really sure of anything right now. 

  “Where are we going,” he mumbled. He couldn’t feel his own feet.

  “Just to get some fresh air. Nothing to worry about. Come along, now.”

  His legs were moving, walking, and he knew, but he wasn’t sure how he was doing it. This was not like being drunk, not at all. When he was drunk, his body sometimes could feel heavy and sleepy, yes, especially once he had  _ stopped  _ drinking. But even then his mind would feel light, unburdened. 

  This, this was more like being crazy. Like wandering through countries, not truly knowing who he was. Eating his own grapes or whatever animal he could get his hands on for food. Handing out punishments without a second thought. Trapped not by chains, but by his own mind, until Kybele had managed to force her way through the mist and fog and drag him back out of it. Twice born, once from the mother and once from the father, they said, but he often through of that experience as a third birth, from himself.

  And he hated being back in there. 

  He fell against hard concrete, and the sound echoed around him. The air smelled bad, like something rotting.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Dionysus shook his head. That was a mistake. It made him want to vomit. 

  Someone - Ash, he remembered - pushed and shoved him into a sitting position. Then his hands were in his pockets. 

  “Ah, this explains it. The amethyst? Yes. No wonder it took so long. And no wonder it hit so hard once you took it off. I should have known. Stupid me.”

  “What?”

  There was a laughter, but he didn’t think it sounded like deep waters anymore. It sounded more like himself, back then, when he was young and out of his mind.

  “And I had you swallow that rune stone with Isa on it! Sure, if you had still had this around your neck, it would have worked more slowly on you. But you had just taken it off, and I didn’t know. Oh boy, if you were to survive the night, I would expect you to feel pretty shitty in the morning.”

  Dionysus made a sound, which was supposed to be something like  _ “What are you talking about? Who are you? What are you doing to me?”  _ but it came out more like a messy grumble.

  “I could only sedate three of you, you see. I do not have enough power in this form for more. Now, the hard part was writing the runes on the underside of Sól and Máni’s beers, so that they would not be able to see me for the rest of the night. And the magic would have worn out soon. I had to be quick, and you were not responding to the runes on your own cans.”

  Something sharp was pushed against his jawline, and though he could not feel the pain, he could still feel his flesh split open and the warm ichor run down his throat.

  “I need a god. The  _ power  _ of a god. I can do a lot in this avatar, fool many. Even perform simple magic. But if I want to be a god again, I need to get myself free from the cains made by my son’s intestines. And no human vessel can do that for me, not even my own wife! Only a god, or a mortal host temporarily made a god, can rip those bands apart. Would you know, one of the ways to do that, is to have the mortal consume the life force of a god. The stronger the god, the better it works. And the less left of the god, the more is transferred to the vessel. So, dearest, I might not be able to kill you, but I sure can weaken you enough that you might as well be dead.”

  Maybe some of the poison came flowing out of him with the ichor, because his vision cleared. 

  The man, who was basically straddling his limp body, was Ash, sure as day. But his soft and dark look was gone. His blue eyes were filled with a desire Dionysus recognized oh so well. 

  Desire created by madness.

  Ash leaned over him, too close for Dionysus to be able to focus, and he could feel a warm tongue run along the wound on his jaw. 

  Ash made a satisfied groan, and grabbed Dionysus’ hair to pull his head further back.

  He didn’t smell nice anymore. The earth and honey were replaced by sweat and salt and rooting meat. The world was floating, as if he was on a ship. In the back of his mind, he thought he could hear the laughter of men. He tried to reach out with his powers. 

_ Ivy. Grapes. Grow.  _

  But there was nothing. His body was frozen and cold, and his ichor and the pressure of the other man were too warm and hot. 

  “This will take too long,” Ash muttered, and Dionysus could feel a blade, even this hot against his icy skin, pressed against his jugular. “Better make this quick and messy. You’ve seen how fast I can down a beer. Want to see me chug a god?”

 

*

 

  Hermes stood by the last door, a hand resting on it. He had stood for long, and he was pretty sure Apollo would have commented on it being a new personal record for silence.

  Hypnos rested in his nest of hair, and Hermes could feel his eyes on him. 

  “Now, we are done,” Hermes said. His voice almost drowned in the neverending sound of water. 

  “Did it help?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked at the snake. 

  “Yeah,” he whispered.

 

Zagreus still slept, in the same position they had left him. There was a bit of drool on the sheets, and he snored slightly. Hermes stood and watched him. 

  This was his brother. A little unrecognizable, was all. He had changed, several times, and come back several times. But he was sure - the day Zagreus had been reborn as Dionysus, their nature had been formed, and it had hardly changed since. It had been shaped by what had happened, and what would happen. Persephone had not yet been queen when she birthed Zagreus, still he was already tied to the underworld. There was a faith connected even to gods.

  This union before him was meant to be, but it had been disturbed. And that disturbance had rocked their balance, and made it unstable. Kybele had tried to fix it, by splitting them apart as far as she could without causing life threatening damage. It hadn’t worked. Eris had tried to merge them again. It hadn’t worked.

  “We need Kybele,” Hermes said. “Their union hasn’t been done right.”

  “There is nothing you can do right now.”

  Dionysus Zagreus’ lips twitched and his nose wrinkled, like a dog dreaming of something bad. Hermes frowned.

  “I’m tired.”

  “You should sleep.”

  “Ariadne has my bed. I need to stay watch anyway, until Apollo comes back.”

  Hypnos let out a breath. Not really a sigh, it was too soft for that, but it still seemed decisive. While Hermes watched Zagreus, he took to rummaging about the room. There were no lack of pillows, and he collected them and got comfy.

  “Here,” he said and stretched out a wing, the way others would have stretched out their arm to invite someone to rest against them. “Sleep, while I guard him.”

  “But-”

  “I can stay awake. When I  _ want  _ to.”

  The events of the past few days suddenly felt heavier than before. He tried to think of something to hold onto in the dread, and thought about new life and old ones. 

  He sighed. “Okay.” One second look at his brother, and he walked over and sat down on the heap of pillows, Hypnos’ wing around him for shelter.

  They shuffled and settled, and Hermes curled up under the protected wings, which now formed a cocoon around him. He closed his eyes, but before he fell asleep, he had to ask.

  “Have you ever seen  _ my  _ headspace?” 

  “Yes. I have traveled around in most of the gods unconsciousnesses.”

  “You creep,” Hermes teased, and yawned. “Also,  _ unconsciousnesses.  _ Say that five times fast.”

  “I didn’t look at any memories. I wanted to see how they were. None are alike.”

  “Sounds like fun. I like traveling. What’s my place like?”

  Hypnos was silent for a moment while thinking. “There were a lot of roads. And paths and trails. Leading everywhere. Leading nowhere. Water, of course. All the places have water of some sort. Yours were crystal clear creeks, safe to drink from. There were sheds and places to sleep, I liked that. And birds, a lot of birds. They sang, but they also spoke.”

  “What did they say? I bet they spoke a lot of bullshit.”   
  “A magpie told me a joke about a goat and a satyr walking into a bar.  There was a ram nearby when he said it, I am pretty certain it was offended. Every bird spoke a human language, but never more than one. Yet they seemed to understand each other.”

  “Hm. Cool, I guess. Better than I expected.”

  “Sleep now,” Hypnos commanded, his voice still soft.

  And so he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a long one! Now to figure out the next chapter, which will probably take some time to finish.
> 
> In the meantime I am working on getting to know these characters more. So if you want to, drop a comment with a ask for the gods, and I will post an interlude chapter with answers.


	20. Interlude - Q&A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions and Answers because I am slow at this next chapter, and thought you all desvered something to read. Add some questions in the comments if you want them answered.

“What is the best invention of modern times?”

Apollo: Vaccines

Dionysus: Wine coolers

Hermes: Modern underwear.

Apollo: …

Dionysus: Can I change mine? I change it to lacy underwear… for  _ men _ .

Hermes: Ooo!

Apollo: I am leaving.

 

“What is the worst thing one of your brothers have ever done”

Hermes: Apollo once slayed this whole group of siblings for calling his mom a bitch.

Apollo: Dionysus has had people ripped apart. Several times, actually.

Dio: On my birthday, Hermes took off with some chick, instead of going bar crawling with us.

Hermes: I told you I was sorry!

Dio: Unforgivable. Buds before Babes!   
Hermes: It was in  _ 1972 _ , when will you  _ ever _ let me live that down?

Dio: Unforgivable.

  
  
  


“Drink of choice?”

Apollo: CapriSun

Hermes: RedBull

Dionysus: The blood of my enemies.

Hermes: … *shows him a flashcard*

Dionysus: Oh! Right! Wine. Wine, is the final answer.

Apollo: *sweating*

 

“What is your relationship to your demigod children”

Dionysus: I have them. I have more than I am aware of, and I acknowledge that. God of orgies, you know. Hard to keep up.

Apollo: Depends. I like to think I’m good at keeping up to date with their lives.

Hermes: *slams a 6 pound notebook on the table* I have detailed notes about every important date in the lives of my children and grandchildren. All 1256 of them! I attend every single rite of passage, even if I have to be in disguise. AND I have secret college funds for everyone, even if they have to receive the money in a “lottery”. I also keep records of their grades, and pay their teachers under the table to offer them extra lessons. And I attend every single competitive event they enter, and makes sure their favourite snack is sold at said event for a reasonable price.

 

“Who is the best in bed?”

*Everyone holds up their hands*   
Apollo: We like  _ different things _ . And with a few thousand years of practice, we get pretty good at it, whatever it is we like.

Dionysus: I don’t like different things. I like everything.

Apollo: We  _ all like different things _ . Except Dionysus. Dio is a deviant who shouldn’t be let out in public spaces and if he was a cat, we’d have him neutered.

Dio: *miaus*

Apollo: *picks up a spray bottle*

Dio: *hisses and runs off*

 

“What is the deal with that bag of coins you have, Hermes?”

Hermes: Wouldn’t you like to know  _ weather boy _ .

Hermes: …

Hermes: *whispers* It’s for all those people who weren’t buried with coins to Caron. I can’t stand to see them stranded at the wrong side of the river. But don’t spread the word, or I might lose my job.

 

“Hermes, what’s your deal”

Dio: Oh, I want to ask this one! I want it! *cough* Mimi?

Hermes: … yes.

Dio: What’s your  _ deal _ .

Hermes: Like, in what-

Dio: Sexuality.

Hermes: It’s always sexuality with you, isn’t it. Well, I’m a raging bisexual disaster.

Dio: And.

Hermes: And?

Dio: Hermes. Why are you afraid of commitment?

Hermes: I… Urg… I… *huff*... What?   
Dio: Open up about it. Hermes, we need to have this talk. It’s time.

Hermes: … 

Dio: Mimi. Are you aromantic?

Hermes: What? No!

Dio: … You’re not?

Hermes: No. Why… Why did you think that?

Dio: It just made sense, I thought, you know, there’s no shame in being aro, look at Arty!

Hermes: I know! Sometimes I almost  _ wish _ I was aro, so people would just get off my back!

Dio: Dude, what?

Hermes: You know, you fall in love with some nice mortal, everything is sweet and simple and fun, and then you need to decide between the option of one - to make them immortal and marry them, meaning if I ever change my mind, I’m stuck with them for eternity. Two - pretend to be mortal for the rest of their life, cue complications, trust me. Or three - break up. You see, there is no winning! The easiest way out is to  _ never use the word Date _ , and therefore, never start anything serious. Otherwise, I’d probably end up like Apollo, mourning some lover for the next few centuries! I don’t want that!

Dio: …

Hermes: …

Dio: I… oh. I didn’t… Hermes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pull that out of you.

Hermes: It’s just… feelings change, you know. And I don’t want to get stuck in something I can’t get out of. That doesn’t mean I don’t… you know. Get crushes and all that shit. It’s just that… I don’t know how to deal with them. It’s better to get out before the L-word forms.

Dio: Come here.

Hermes: I mean, it’s bad enough when the kids die, you know. Sooner or later, they all do. And I have to take their soul down to the underworld, and explain everything, and. And then they are gone. Why would I… Why would I get attached to lovers too? I- Sorry, I-

Dio: Hey. It’s okay. 

Hermes: It’s not. I… I don’t know how to explain-

Dio: It is. You don’t need a definition for everything. Not all of Artemis’ hunters are aro or ace, you know. Some just  _ choose _ to stay single.

Hermes: I know. But… It would’ve been easier, you know, if it was one or the other. If I was like Arty, or if I was like  _ you- _

Dio: Hey, shh, it’s alright.

Hermes: I just  _ fuck everything up _ eventually.

Dio: No, you don’t. 

Hermes: Why would I inflict that on anyone. On myself?

Dio: Mimi…

Hermes: Better to just leave before anyone get hurt. True love is bullshit. At least, for me. I… I want to be able to move on, you know.

Dio: I know. 

Hermes: …

Dio: I’m sorry. 

Hermes: For what.

Dio: For making you tell me that.

Hermes: Hm. It’s… okay. I… I’m tired.

Dio: Couch sleepover?

Hermes: Couch sleepover. 

 

“What do you think of the Riordan books?”

Apollo: What do I think of a series that reminds everyone of the worst things I’ve ever done, and then have my character wet himself on the regular?

Dio: Apollo, you’ve read every single book three times. 

Apollo: … They are funny.

Dio:  _ I _ personally do not like this “Mr. D” character. BUT! I do love being portrayed by Stanley Tucci in the movies. He truly is a god amongst men. I know, I met him.

Apollo: … You mean you-

Dio: Yes.

Apollo: Okay then. Hermes?

Hermes *in the corner, clinging to his notebooks, sobbing*: I love all my kids, understand. I love them. 


	21. Two Gods, a Mortal, and a dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis is on a quest to find Rhea, so she can "shake some sense into Dionysus". With her she brings fellow goddess and half-sister Britomartis, and the protege Brielle. But Rhea is no-where to be found, and Artemis is running out of ideas. They return to Kazdagi in Turkey to keep searching at the forests of Mount Ida.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this chapter took two months to finish. It's parts because I've had a lot on my mind, parts that this chapter took a lot of research, and parts that it took some time to get used to writing Artemis POV. You need time as a writer to get to know your characters, but I feel like I have finally gotten a hang on her.
> 
> Here is a 360 degrees picture from Mount Kaz (aka Mount Ida), so you can see the landscape this chapter takes place in  
> https://www.google.com/maps/@39.6912804,26.8744717,3a,75y,82.86h,90t/data=!3m8!1e1!3m6!1sAF1QipPqo_rhstZ5x5srgCJWbD_0I-lZtxAem1_6GWyO!2e10!3e11!6shttps:%2F%2Flh5.googleusercontent.com%2Fp%2FAF1QipPqo_rhstZ5x5srgCJWbD_0I-lZtxAem1_6GWyO%3Dw203-h100-k-no-pi-0-ya6.8649554-ro-0-fo100!7i9728!8i4864
> 
> I tried to research information about how nymphs and mortals would become followers of Artemis. I didn't find much, except one place it said they would take a vow on Artemis' bow. I used the phrase "Swear Zeus", which was commonly used when taking oaths. If you've got any interesting sources to share, add it in the comments!
> 
> Some of you will probably get TOA flashbacks from this - Artemis, Dodona, Rhea, Britomartis. But I promise it wasn't because of TOA this chapter took the form it did. That was because it made sense to use Dodona and Britomartis for the logic of the story.

 The problem with hunters was that they weren't gods. In many ways, they were more like nature spirits, which made sense, since most of them were nymphes. They didn't age and they never got sick, so naturally, they couldn't die from old age or illness. That didn't make them immortal, though. And it sure didn't make them gods.

  And so, they didn't have the ability to teleport.

  In addition, quite a few were very sceptical to modern transportation systems. Especially airplanes. 

  Which was why Artemis had resolved to gather hunters from across the world, gathering them into divisions. 

  Plus, it made it a lot more fun for her, being able to constantly shift her hunting grounds.

  But that also meant she couldn't put all of her hunters to work searching for Rhea. Rhea was an older goddess, who preferred her home region around the Mediterranean and the black sea. There was no use in asking her South American group to help.

  In addition - teleporting extra people was a lot more tiresome. Which was why Artemis resolved to bringing only two of her hunters to Mount Ida on Crete. One was her most experienced hunter, Britomartis, who had joined her hunt back in ancient times. They knew each other well enough now, that they barely had to speak to communicate. Not to mention, they were half-sisters. Through Zeus, naturally. While Artemis’ other followers were immortalized mortals and nymphs, Britomartis was a fellow goddess. Which meant she could pull her own weight when teleporting. That made for a good balance to her other chosen hunter, the new recruit Brielle. 

  Artemis liked to spend as much time as possible with fresh hunters. This was the time to bond, to teach, to get to know each other. But even more so, she considered the time up until the ceremonial rites a vulnerable time. Full moon wouldn't be until the tenth, and in the meantime, Brielle was full on mortal. For the next week, anything could happen. And Artemis wanted to make sure they got the rite over and done with  _ this _ month.

  The idea was simple. Go to Mount Ida on Crete. Track down Rhea. If she wasn't on Crete - go to Mount Ida in Turkey (really - there were two). Call Apollo. Have Rhea shake Dio until he got better. Easy.

  Not so easy.

  She was not on Crete. She was not in Turkey. She was not in the areas around her ancient temples. And by the time they had established that really, she wasn't anywhere, they had already spent almost a week.

  So Artemis visited ancient gods and goddesses, deities Rhea usually spent the most time with. But no, they hadn't heard from her in years, and no, they weren't worried, because what were a few years in the span of thousands, and these younger deities, always available on their funny little screens, and head-scrolls, and bird thingies, and had Artemis perhaps heard of the concepts of solitude, peace and quiet, and watching the stars and cetera et cetera.

  She had tried to explain that actually, she spent almost all her time outdoors, hunting and camping, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

  At which point, she realized, Apollo would have made a solid Pink Floyd reference.

  So they found themselves in a crook of the underworld, having just been told by Nyx to "bugger off with their Olympian drama", the truth dawning on them that they were running out of ideas.

  Britomartis made herself comfortable on top of a boulder covered in glowing moss. There, she pulled a piece of rope out of a pocket on her hunting pants, and started fiddling with it. Their hare hound, Ajax, ran around the boulder a few times, before running off to sniff at some interesting flowers.

  “There is no point in searching without a plan. We need a track to follow. Here, girl.” She threw Brielle a second piece of rope. “Practice your knots while we discuss.”

  Brielle caught the gift, and leaned against the boulder. Some pieces of glowing moss fell on her shoulders.

  “We will need an oracle,” Artemis decided. “When all roads are dead ends, you ask for guidance.”

  “If she has gone into hiding for some reason, then I doubt any oracle will be able to predict where to find her. Rhea is powerful.”

  “There is one. Brielle, you mirrored the knot half way through. There you go, good. Anyway-” 

  “Are we going to meet an actual oracle?” Brielle asked. She was grinning, though her eyes were focused on redoing her knots. “Who?”

  “It’s not as much a who as a what. It’s a forest where doves nest, in Dodona. It was sacred to Zeus, but before him, it was sacred to Rhea. It’s where she made Dionysus go when he was cursed by Hera. We might be able to communicate with the trees. Maybe we can find a clue.”

  “Are we going to go to talk to… trees? And pigeons?”

  “Pigeons taste good,” Britomartis mentioned. Brielle gawked.

  “You can’t eat magical pigeons!”

  “I was  _ kidding _ . Or  _ was I?” _

  “Oh  _ god!” _

  “We are at least two gods here, you know.”

  Artemis rolled her eyes and held out her hand to Brielle. “No one will devour any doves in Dodona.” She made a mental note to have Hermes and Apollo try to say that five times fast, the two loved to play around with words and language. She’d once had the honor to witness them in a rap battle over who should get to choose which movie to watch.

  Brielle held on to her arm. Artemis noticed she was frowning, as if steading herself.

  “I know teleporting isn’t much fun,” she said, “but hopefully we will be done soon.”

  “It’s getting easier. It doesn’t make me as queasy anymore.”

  Britomartis jumped off her boulder and whistled for Ajax to join her. She held a protective arm around the body of the short dog, and nodded to Artemis.

  Artemis closed her eyes, and stretched out her mind. Like a daydream, she imagined Dodona. She knew where it was, it’s location on a map. She knew how the earth there smelled. The cool shade of the trees.

  The world turned around her, and dissolved into a world without gravity, before she felt her feet once again return to the ground and wind caress her hair. 

  By her side, Brielle wavered, but Artemis steadied them both.

  “Are you alright?”

  Brielle nodded. “Yeah, just… Can I sit?”

  “Not yet, we need to walk over there.” Artemis pointed with her free hand towards a grove of naked oaks. The leaves had dropped months ago, and now the oaks didn’t seem nearly as magnificent next to the evergreen pine trees as they would have in summer.

  Britomartis let go of Ajax, who stayed close by. “You have to keep your arm on Artemis,” she explained, “or you won’t be able to enter.”

  They walked together towards the oaks, and the crisp winter air abruptly changed. The ground beneath their feet became softer as the grass turned green. The branches and twigs of the massive oaks were no longer naked, but lush with dark green summer leaves. Birds flew by- both grey and brown doves, some with dark feathers like a collar around their neck. They settled in the trees, and called with soft coos. 

  Brielle gasped. 

  “But…”

  “It is always summer in here,” Artemis explained. “The trees communicate better with leaves.”

  Ajax sniffed at one of the roots, and lifted his leg just barely, but Britomartis clicked her tongue, and drew his attention back to her. 

  “No pissing on sacred trees, Ajax. Here, have a snack. Alright, Artemis, what do we do now? We don’t have a priest.”

  But Brielle let go of Artemis’ arm, shed her backpack, and walked up to a particularly thick oak. There, she put her hands on it. Her body froze, her shoulders only barely moving as she breathed. 

  “Oh…”

  One hand still on the rough bark, she turned to the others. Her pupils were small, as if she stood in bright sunlight, and she seemed to be looking at something far away.

 “I can hear the trees,” she whispered, 

  Artemis looked up at the canopy. The rounded leaves of the oaks were moving in a breeze, chattering softly.

  “What are they saying?”

  Brielle’s lips moved, but she didn’t speak out loud. Her mouth closed, her head tilted to listen. A soundless conversation, back and forth. The wind grabbed the leaves, the doves rustled their feathers.

  Britomartis scowled and walked up to Brielle, where she waved her hand in front of her eyes. No reaction.

  “It seems we have a priestess?”

  Artemis frowned. “She channeled Apollo on New Years Eve. She was a temporary oracle. It could have made her more open.”

  Brielle nodded to herself - or perhaps to the trees - and said out loud “You were close.”

  “Where.”

  “Kazdagi. Turkey. You did not see what you were searching for.”

  Britomartis huffed. “Yeah, or we would have been home by now.”

  “Bri, hush,” Artemis said. “Elle, go on.”

  Still, Brielle’s eyes seemed unfocused. “We are not so different from there. Here is summer. There is warmth. Here is shielded. There is hidden. Here are we. There is she.”

  Her mouth closed, her body shuttered. Her hand slipped of the tree, and Brielle fell forwards. Britomartis caught her, and sat them both down on the ground. There, Brielle dozed off against her shoulder. Ajax came running, sniffing at Brielle’s face.

  Britomartis looked to Artemis. “So we return to Turkey?” Britomartis asked.

  “Brielle said Kazdagi. Mount Ida - that is, Mount Kaz - lies in the the national park of Kazdagi. Maybe Rhea is somewhere else in the region. We should spread our search.”

  “We will need to ask for back-up soon.”

  Brielle’s eyes fluttered open and she sighed. “That was… Different.”

  “Different how?” Artemis asked, her voice soft and quiet as to signal it was okay to take it slow.

  “From last time. It’s… wow.”

  “Nice use of adjectives,” Britomartis teased.

  Brielle sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I’m okay. I just got a bit dizzy.” She got up and shook her head a little. “Turkey again?”

  Artemis took her arm. “Ready to teleport once more?”

  “Okay. I’m ready.”

  Britomartis made a small noise of disagreement, but grabbed Ajax once more. “Lead the way, Artemis.”

  The world drifted once more, and when Artemis opened her eyes again, they stood in a forest. The skies were clear and there was a soft layer of yesterday’s snow covering the ground and the branches of the evergreens and the slim rowans and birches. Last time, they had begun at Rhea’s residence - a hidden away house a stretch away from the road going up towards the peak. Then they had used that as a base to search. Now, they had landed further north.

  “We’ve already been here,” Britomartis announced.

  “I am aware. The park is only two-hundred-and-fifteen square kilometers, we’ve basically been everywhere. But we’ve missed something. We will travel along the outskirts.”

  Brielle studied a fox track - a tread of separate oval footprints heading in a straight line into the woods. “It’s good tracking snow.”

  “Only in parts of the park. We will have to make the most of it. We will stick to the snow covered parts for now, and then go further down the mountain tomorrow.”

  “So, we’re searching blind?” Britomartis commented, not too amused with the plan.

  “Brielle managed to connect to the trees in Dodona,” Artemis said, and she straightened her back. “Who knows, if Rhea is in hiding, Brielle just might be the clue to find her.”

 

Artemis didn’t believe in jinxes. Apollo - who would knock on wood for just about anything - said she was being illogical. They were  _ gods _ . They practically  _ invented _ jinxes. 

  But no. Artemis believed in psychology. She believed in people messing things up themselves, because they felt pressured to perform. Apollo said that was basically the same thing. Whether magic or psychology, you ruined the outcome of a situation by being too smug too soon. Such was the nature of hubris.

  Whatever the case - Artemis had jinxed it. 

  Brielle had suddenly become a massive clutz, undoubtedly because of the attention. When Britomartis told her to beware of a branch, she walked straight into it. As Ajax kept running between them, she’d trip over him. And even though her backpack was of top modern quality - perfectly balanced for her body type - she kept losing her balance and falling over roots and rocks.

  Britomartis was currently fishing her up from a creek she had stumbled into, and water dripped from her clothes and hair. 

  “I’m sorry, sorry, I didn’t notice-”

  “It’s alright, we’ll set up a fire, you’ll be dry in no time,” Britomartis comforted her. “Ajax, come back here. Artemis, get your dog?”

  “Look,” Brielle said, and pointed. “He’s found a track.”

  Artemis crossed the creek by jumping from one rock to another, much more gracefully than Brielle’s attempt. After all, she had a few thousand years worth of practice. 

  Brielle and Britomartis came up on the other side of the creek, Brielle shaking slightly. 

  “Deer tracks?” Brielle asked, studying the cloven footprints. 

  But Artemis shook her head. “It’s two-legged. It’s a satyr.”

  “Maybe they know where Rhea is,” Britomartis suggested. 

  Artemis nodded, but then she noticed Ajax stuffing his snout into a different set of tracks, his tail wagging back and forth in excitement.

  “What have you found there, boy? Another satyr?” Satyrs were social creatures, after all. 

  But it wasn’t. Instead, there was a parallel track of what was unmistakably human shoes. 

  Brielle, now properly shivering, squatted down to look at the marks.

  “T-they are… o-old,” she remarked through chattering teeth. “Worn.”

  At first, Artemis didn’t understand what she meant. The tracks were clearly fresh from last evening. But then she saw, and realized Brielle was talking about the shoes. The pattern of the soles was barely visible at the heel and toe, and on the right shoe it seemed a part was missing, as if there was a hole in it.

  “They are not even hiking boots,” Artemis said. “These are dress shoes. Look at the sharp toes and the flat sole. Why would someone come trekking in the middle of a national park in fancy shoes.”

  “And why would they be following a satyr?” Britomartis said.

  Right then, Brielle sneezed, and threw her arms around herself.

  “You two stay here. Get a fire started, set up camp. The sun will go down in a couple of hours anyway. Me and Ajax will check out these tracks, then teleport back if we get too far away.”

  Ajax ran ahead, and Artemis shed her backpack and left the two hunters to follow the dog and the two lines of tracks leading off into the forest. She wasn’t sure who was more eager now, she or the dog. This was too odd to be a coincidence, and she felt certain it had to be a clue. If anything, there would be a satyr at the end, and if he was local - which he probably was, since most satyrs didn’t experience much wanderlust - he could help her.

  The tracks changed. Until now, there had been a straight and certain trail of the two, but now the regularity between the steps changed. The trail of the satyr stopped at times, turned around, stomped in one place, then kept going. They changed direction, began walking in a ninety degree angle from the original. 

  Ajax was panting, his tongue hanging out. His breath formed into fog in the air. 

  The distance between the hooves increased, as if he had began to run. At the same time, the dress shoes took off from the track of the satyr. It no longer looked like they had walked side by side. Now the dress shoes took small detours into dense patches of birches, or behind rocks and boulders. Artemis ran alongside them, under low hanging branches of pines and between thick tree trunks.

  As the distance between the hooves once again increased, now to a distance of a satyr sprinting, the tracks of the dress shoes changed in a similar style. They settled against roots and stumps in order to make long leaps. There were marks of fingers and hands where the human had landed, helping them throw themselves further forward. They no longer passed by hidden places, but in the open spaces between trees.

  The satyr had fallen, gotten up again. 

  Small specks of red blood that had coagulated, the colour soaking into the white snow.

  Artemis’ back hurt from breathing in the cold air, but she couldn’t stop running.

  Fingermarks again. A red handmark against a white birch. The satyr had fallen once more, using their hands to crawl forward.

  Ajax stopped abruptly and howled in surprise and in the ecstasy of having accomplished his task.

  Artemis stared, no sound escaping her.

  In a clearing surrounded by grey beeches and aspens, lay the mangled body of a satyr. He’d worn a cape - a chlamys- to keep warm, but it had slashes in it as if from a knife or claws. Now, the piece of cloth only served to hide his aging wounds. Still, it couldn’t hide the blackening gashes where pieces of flesh had been ripped from his thighs. The fur was covered in blood, making it look darker in colour than it probably had been. 

  Slowly, in deep respect, Artemis walked up to the body. Ajax sniffed it, his tail wagging. 

  “Down, Ajax,” she commanded, and the dog backed away and laid down. Still, his body shook in excitement. 

  She moved the satyr over to his back, and covered his body as best she could. His face was pale and with a blue hue to it. There was a crust of blood on his lip, and she took some snow off the ground to clean it up.

  Oh, they would had to gather a lot more firewood then she had expected tonight.

    By the time the pyre had burned down and they could return to their chosen campsite, it had become dark. The snow, the stars, and the almost full moon helped them find their way through the forest and back to the creek. Behind them, they left a pile of coal and ash. Artemis carried the buckle from the satyr’s cape - an intricate fibula. She was sure his people - if they ever found them - would want to do their own rituals. For now, his ash was spread by the wind into the forest where he had lived, to help nourish the soil.

  The others had found a flat area close to the creek, and there was a dark spot where they had only just managed to get a fire started when Artemis had come for them. Brielle’s wet clothes still hung from nearby branches, slowly stiffening in the cooling air.

  There was a time for mourning, and a time for getting things done. Now was the second. 

  They got the fire going again, and heated rocks to put in Brielle’s booths so they would dry. In the meantime, she sat with her socks close to the fire, damp rising from them.

  “The full moon is tomorrow. We should have been throwing you a party,” Britomartis said, as she poured dried food into a pot of now boiling water. “The good old fashioned way. Barefoot, chitons, sacrificing an animal to eat-”

  “Please don’t talk about sacrificing things right now,” Artemis said. Not for her own sake, she knew death and blood well by now. But she knew Brielle might not feel like speaking up about being uncomfortable about tonight’s events.

  Britomartis huffed. She had found a twig to stir the casserole with. “There are some things that are a lot nicer about modern day outdoor living, I must say.”

  Artemis nodded. “Flannels.”

  “You and your flannels. I was thinking about the modern design of tents. Sleeping bags.  _ Pants. _ With  _ pockets _ .”

  Brielle was smiling slightly now. Ajax had curled up next to her to get his ear scratched.

  “You’ve lived to see a lot of changes.”

  Artemis looked up at the sky, where an almost full moon shone down at them. “We have.”

  “We will perform the ritual at midnight, when the night is at its darkest,” Britomartis said, grinning.

  “Why do we wait until then? Is your powers stronger at full moon?”

  “It’s not exactly like that,” Artemis said. “It’s more that I feel better, and I  _ feel _ stronger during a full moon.”

  “I am not sure I get it.”

  “Do you like rain?”

  “I love rain!”

  “What is it about it that you like?”

  Brielle leaned her head back, closed her eyes and drew a breath through her nose. “It smells good. Fresh. And I like the sound of rain. I always sleep better if it’s raining outside.”

 “Some people, like my brother, they prefer warm and sunny days.” She felt the cold and horror in her gut release, and a spark of warmth take its place. “When they think of rain, they think of cold. They think of wet feet and stiff coats that don’t breathe. It’s not that Apollo is any weaker when the weather is bad. He just  _ feel _ weaker. When the full moon is up, I feel joy. I like the cold light. I like how it makes snowy forests brighten. It reminds me of my brother, because the moon reflects the sunlight. It’s symbolic, and it’s beautiful.”

  A snap of a branch.

  Goosebumps up her back.

  The dog curled and growled.

  All three stood, their eyes wide open staring into the darkness. An ancient instinct -  _ do not blink _ .

  “What?” Brielle asked, her voice small. She stood with her socks in the snow, not caring about anything but the presence in the woods.

  Ajax kept growling, but he tucked his tail between his legs and his ears lay flat against his head. 

  “He wouldn’t react like that to any animal. It’s a threat,” Artemis said. She heard her own voice come out of her mouth as a loud whisper. 

  “Shouldn’t we run?”

  “Whatever it is would have attacked us already if that was its plan. It has snuck up on us unnoticed until now and-”

_ “Hey! Hey, there! We know you’re there! Show yourself.” _

  Artemis summoned her bow and nocked an arrow. Britomartis pulled out a net. Brielle freed her own bow from her backpack - a way more modern instrument than Artemis’ - and stood ready. Brielle gawked at Britomartis. “What was that for?”

  Britomartis shrugged. “Say it wants to attack. Well, not  _ it knows _ that  _ we know _ its there. Either it will pounce, and we will get it all over with. Or it will run, it’s hard to hunt a prey that is aware of your presence. Or say its friendly, well, I gave it an invitation to show up, didn’t I?”

  Silence.

  Ajax kept growling.

  Wind in the trees.

  The dog became quiet, and huffed.

  Artemis lowered her bow. “We will sleep on shift.”

 

The snow had changed. It wasn't the soft, light, and quiet fresh snow from yesterday. Now, it was hard, crisp, and shiny like glass. Yesterday's tracks were still embedded in it.

  They backtracked the satyr. He must have come from somewhere, and where that somewhere was, they might find more nature spirits. The track lead them further east. The snow had melted in large patches, and Ajax was in charge of keeping them in the right direction. First down the mountain, then upwards again as they curved south.

  Occasionally, Artemis tried communicate with particularly interesting trees and shrubs - those that were so big, she thought a dryad might reside in them. By springs and creeks, she would put her hand in the icy water to contact the naiads. But no one was home. 

  She took her hand off the trunk of a huge oriental platan. 

  "Still no spirits."

  The crown of the tree was bare, all its energy conserved in the trunk and the roots. The wind only touched naked twigs and branches now, awaiting new leaves to ruffle.

  Maybe the dryads were sleeping? Much deeper than they normally would? 

  Britomartis said it first, yet Artemis assumed everyone had already thought the same thing. "Do you think it could be because of the unknown hunter?"

  “Maybe. Bri, take out the GPS. I want to see how we’ve been walking.” 

  Brielle sighed, only barely noticeable, and Artemis smiled. “Right now, we have a task, and we need to be efficient. There will be plenty of time for you to try the old-fashioned and authentic hunter lifestyle.”

  “We’ll get you a chiton and sandals,” Britomartis said, smirking. “And old-fashioned underwear and tampons.”

  “She’s joking about the last two, I promise. Now look here.”

  They gathered around the small screen of the GPS. It showed the contour lines of the area - Mount Ida with it’s steep southern slope towards the sea, and the sleeker hills towards the north. They had moved in a curve on the northern side, first down then up again.

  “We’re moving in a circle,” Brielle pointed out - literally. With a finger, she followed the trail they had walked since this morning. Then she continued the curve, imagining how it would have crept close to the highest peak, and down again, finally leading back to their campsite.

  “It would have crossed Rhea’s place,” Britomartis said. “We’ve already searched most of this area. What’s the plan, Artemis?”

  She considered it. She closed her eyes, and let the cool winter air rush into her lungs, forcing her mind to focus on her breathing. 

  To be honest, she was getting frustrated. Real frustrated. She tapped a finger against her tight as she thought.

  “We will send a message out to the closest hunting parties, ask them to come as soon as they can. It will take a day or two, but we’ll get reinforcements. We will spend the day finishing this estimated round-trip. Check Rhea’s place again, maybe she has seen the note we left her. And tonight-” she opened her eyes, and made a great effort to seem upbeat and happy, “We will celebrate Brielle.”

Rhea’s residence at Mount Ida was hidden from regular mortals. It was hard even for Brielle to reach it. As they got closer, she got more clumsy again. If she didn’t pay attention, she’d gradually steer off in the wrong direction. But Britomartis took her hand, and lead her along. It was a part of the forest that seemed to work like the wrong side of a magnet. A place humans simply avoided, without even realizing it. 

  But by keeping an eye on Brielle, they reached it. An old cottage with brick walls and red tiles. Large chestnuts stretched their branches above the roof, and bare cherry plums and dewberry bushes framed the small garden. The shutters were closed on the windows, the planter boxes were hidden under a layer of snow. 

  Their own old tracks were only barely visible dents in the snow, while the cloven hooves of the satyr were still sharp and uncovered. He had come by, and been inside the cottage.

  They had left a note for Rhea on the table in the kitchen, but when Artemis poked her head inside, she immediately noticed it was gone. 

  “He took it with him,” she called out for the others. 

  “Satyrs can be real bastards,” Britomartis called back. “Maybe he wanted to make mischief?”

  Artemis walked around the cottage. Other than the missing note, everything was exactly the way they had left it a few days ago. Nothing was out of place. Nothing else taken. There were even the same few bottles of wine left untouched. 

  “A mischievous satyr wouldn’t leave the alcohol,” she said as she got back outside. The light here was so bright and white, it took her eyes a few moments to adjust again. “He came for a reason. He saw the note. He took it with him, and continued without staying here for long. Walked several kilometers in a day, slowly turning back to where he came from.”

  “Like on a patrol?” Brielle asked. 

  Artemis tapped her forefinger against her thigh. “Like on a patrol.” She looked to the sky - a clear winter’s blue. “The moon will rise and the sun will set at half past five. Meaning, we only have another hour and a half of daylight, but we’ll have moonlight and white snow to compensate for it. We can keep going through the evening, set up camp wherever we are right before midnight.”

  They looked into the woods where the tracks of the satyr continued. Ajax kept busy by stuffing his snout into every single hole in the snow, his tail wagging. The trail lead further upwards in the forest, in the direction of the peak. They had been there the other day, and she couldn’t help but feel stressed about it. They had spent a whole day trekking through areas they had already searched through. For all she knew, they could be wasting their time. 

  But then it was the case with the missing note. 

  Britomartis’ hand on her shoulder shook her out of her thoughts. 

  “Hey, Arty, let’s go. No point in stalling.” 

 

The distance between the trees increased as they moved higher up in the terrain. There were no linden or maple trees this high, only evergreen pines, firs and junipers. The higher they reached, the shorter were trees, and soon they could see the peak. It stood to the west for them, hiding the setting sun. The sky had been painted in a gradient of white, peach, and mint, running into shades of blue, radiating from Mount Ida. The wind had whisked the snow off the stone wall, and Artemis saw a red speck - the Turkish flag - move in the wind. To the North and East, they had an open view to the sloping hills and evergreen forest. But the tracks of the satyr didn’t lead them out of the scarce forest and out into the rocky and snowy open landscape. 

  “He knew to stay were he could hide,” Britomartis said. “He didn’t dare go higher.”

  Artemis stopped and closed her eyes. Through a veil, she could feel her other self, standing in her silver chariot, the deers pulling her over the sky. She felt her connection to the moon. A celestial body that would have been fine without her, but still the deers kept running. Their work was ancient, and more about tradition than magic. Selene too would be celebrating tonight.

  “The moon just passed the horizon,” she said, “It’s officially a full moon.”

  To the East, they could barely see the moon make its way over the crest of the hills. The 28 day cycle fulfilled. Even separated, she knew Apollo would cherish the moon too, once it rose at his side of the world. Here, the sun was setting, but there, it still stood high. Tonight was for the both of them.

  “Six hours until midnight, and then we can-”

  A howl teared through the quiet twilight, and left her with a pounding heartbeat. 

  Ajax growled while making himself small and timid. Britomartis pulled out her net.

  Once more, a deep and melodious howl from the forest below them.

  The pieces fell together.

  “Lycanthrope,” Artemis whispered. 

  “What now?” Brielle asked. 

  Britomartis growled, as if mimicking Ajax. “Werewolf.”

  “Werewolves are  _ real _ ?”

  “You hang around gods, Elle, and you’re still surprised?”

  Artemis summoned her bow, shining with silver moonlight. “Now we know who has been following us, and why they didn’t attack. They were waiting for the full moon.”

  “Why?” Brielle whispered. “What do they want from us?”

  “There are as many types of werewolves as there are people. Maybe we accidentally stepped into their territory, they might have been tracking us to make sure we’re not hunters.”

  “But we  _ are _ .”

  “Not werewolf hunters.”

  Britomartis tapped Brielle’s shoulder. “Keep your bow ready.”

  “They might not be dangerous?”

  “I am willing to bet a lot of money this is the same creature who killed that satyr.”

   It was Ajax who noticed it first, its paws too silent for the others to hear. The dog ran forward towards the darkening shapes of the trees, his ears flat towards his head and his teeth white. A figure emerged from the shadows, its form huge. A massive blackness of fur and sharp teeth. Ajax threw himself at it, hanging by the scruff of the wolf’s neck until he was shook off like an annoying tick. Next, the wolf flared his teeth and attacked the person closest - Britomartis.

  But the creature had underestimated its victim, and howled. As it pulled back, Artemis saw Britomartis lying on the ground, her hunting knife covered in blood. 

  There wasn’t time to think. She nocked and arrow, and aimed for the wolf. 

  No, not a wolf. Wolves were cowards, easy to scare. This one was too big and too brave. 

  She sent an arrow flying, but the beast jumped to the side without much effort. Brielle tried the same, her hands shaking, and another arrow was lost.

  “Save your arrows!” Artemis commanded. “Mine will return if lost, yours won't.”

  “Elle, here,” Britomartis called. “Net!”

  As Brielle ran for the hunter, the werewolf threw itself towards her, but Artemis struck it in the hind leg with an arrow. It was enough to throw it off balance, and Brielle and Britomartis joined between the trees. Their whispering only barely reached Artemis’ ears, which were filled with the sound of rushing ichor. 

  “At me,” Artemis yelled, claiming the attention of the werewolf. 

  But as the werewolf was about to turn towards her, Ajax threw himself on its back, burying his teeth into the flesh at it’s hip. With precision, Artemis fired an arrow that buried itself into the shoulder of the wolf, but it still seemed more occupied with the dog. From the trees, Brielle and Britomartis came running, a net held out between them, ready to throw it. Despite the chaos, the wolf managed to throw off Ajax, and then in one long, elegant jump - flew over the net and landed behind the women.

  Artemis let another arrow go, this one a bit lower on the shoulder. With any other animal, it would have dug deep and towards the heart, efficiently killing it, but it seemed the skin on the werewolf was a lot tougher than she had expected.

  A hungry animal was one thing. A wounded one was worse. The wolf opened its read maw and went for the closest target. The powerful jaws closed around Brielle’s waist. She didn’t scream, for all the air in her lungs had been squeezed out of her, but her eyes were wide. 

  Britomartis threw the net towards them, and it fell over the hips and hind legs, heavy rocks tangling the net together underneath the wolf’s stomach. 

  Artemis took pride in killing her target as quickly and efficiently as possible, but this wasn’t the time for it. Now, she sent an arrow towards the soft, exposed skin right in front of the wolf’s tight, where it would do severe damage to the organs. 

  The pain was enough to make the wolf let go of Brielle. It attempted to throw itself towards Artemis, only to realize it was caught in the net. Instead, it stumbled forward and fell to its side. Britomartis was immediately there with her hunting knife.

  It was quick - a slash, red blood reflecting the moonlight, and the wolf stilled.

  Two moments of complete silence.

  A raspy breath.

  Brielle’s body shuttered. 

  Adrenaline had shut up Artemis’ mind for a while, replacing conscious thinking with mere instinct, but now she felt her mind connecting again.

  Britomartis seemed to have the same experience. Still with the bloody blade in her hand, she crawled over to Brielle and gasped. 

  “This is bad, this is very, very, very bad.”

  Artemis ran over and knelt next to Brielle. Her clothes were torn and smeared with blood. The ground beneath her was darkening with fresh, running blood which melted the snow. 

  “We have to get her to a healer!” Britomartis said, her voice filled with panic. “Your brother.”

  “He is on the other side of the world! Teleporting an injured mortal that far, it could be enough to kill her. The closer the better. Olympus.”

  “Can’t we just summon him here?”

  “He will need equipment. We’ll go to Apollo’s place there, and have him meet us, maybe he’ll need Asclepius. And… We will have to make the journey as easy as possible. We will have to perform the rites now.”

  “It won’t make her immortal!”

  “But it will make her stronger! Strong enough that we can move her.”

  Artemis grabbed Brielle’s hand and wrapped the weakening fingers around her silver bow. Her eyes were closed shut, her breathing uneven and broken by coughs and a sickening sound of fluids mixing with air.

  “I, Artemis, will say these vows on behalf of Brielle Brisbois, who is indisposed. Brielle, your consent to this?”

  “She’s dying, Artemis, she can’t-”

  But Brielle’s fingers twitched ever so slightly.

  “Good enough for me. You, Brielle Brisbois, swear Zeus, to become a follower of Artemis Agrotera, to live your life in chastity, to live by the rules of the huntress. Should you not keep your vows, Horkos will see your gifts are revoked and your destiny and punishment will be in the hands of your Lady.” 

  Artemis spoke fast, without care for the secrecy of the ritual. She skipped the parts that were just for show and poetry. Still, her bow started shimmering, spreading a cold white light that made Brielle look even more pale. Again, there was a small twitch of her fingers.

  “And I, Artemis Prostateria, accept your oath.”

  The full moon shed its light over the mountain and the three of them, reflected in the dark and wet blood on Brielle’s clothes and skin. It made it easier to see how her chest only barely rose and fell. 

  “Artemis, we need to get going. We’ll get to Olympus and call for- What… Is that.”

  Artemis looked up and followed Britomartis’ gaze. What she saw made her crane her neck to see the landscape better.

  Down there, between the trees on a hilltop, twenty or thirty flickering red lights. Lines of smoke rose, white against the dark sky.

  “Are those-”

  “Fires,” Britomartis said. “A camp. I can smell the smoke.”

  She could too. The weak scent of burning wood, sharp and rough.

  “Didn’t we search that spot? We were there, yesterday. Or close, at least.”

  “Fuck that, Artemis, lets’ go. It’s Rhea, it  _ has _ to be Rhea!”

  “She can help…” Artemis whispered, her brain still trying to put two and two together. “She can help!”

  They grabbed Brielle’s body, which was heavy and limp. Brielle put two fingers to her mouth and whistled, but nothing happened.

  “Ajax,” she whimpered.

  “He wasn’t badly injured, he must have run off,” Artemis said. “Come on, we’ll search for him after.”

On three, they teleported from the site and towards the hill where they had seen the distant lights.

  The world spun, the trees shifted and swirled. Artemis felt momentarily weightless, then her feet hit the ground and she had to steady herself to avoid dropping Brielle.

  There was silence. Then hundreds of voices. 

  Creatures running, shouting, then calming each other down. Nymphs and satyrs ran between the trees, but those who ran off soon returned. Two dryads came running with a stretcher, as if they were prepared for situations just like this. Artemis didn’t bother to ask useless questions, she just made sure Brielle was lowered as gently as possible onto the stretcher, and then followed the nymphs through camp. 

  There were simple lean-tos and shelters spread out between the trees, and Artemis noticed several of the nymphs were covered in scars and wounds. 

  Now, a part of her mind began putting the pieces together. 

  Mount Ida. No Rhea. A hidden camp. Wounded nature spirits.

  “In here, in here, get her inside!” 

  A voice, deep like roots, yet smooth like water, called from a tent. 

  “Lady Rhea,” Britomartis called.

  But Artemis saw this both was and wasn’t Rhea. This was her local form - Kybele. The change was minimal, as she had shed her headdress. But Rhea had always preferred the Minoan fashion of colourful skirts and shirts. As Kybele, she wore a chiton instead. 

  She stood in the entrance of the tent while two lions came running to meet the delegation. The animals circled Artemis and Britomartis, sniffing their clothes to make sure it truly was who they thought it to be. 

  Kybele simply nodded to them as a greeting, then ordered the nymphs to lower the stretcher with Brielle onto a simple bed inside the tent. She herself immediately began shuffling around, searching through the heaps of bottles, boxes, jars, and other containers. 

  “Artemis, Britomartis, go outside. I need room to work on your hunter. Go, go, go.”

  There was no point in arguing, though Britomartis drew her breath to say something. Artemis put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Call for us, grandmother, if you need us.”

  “Yes, yes. Now go, out of the way.”

  Britomartis grabbed Artemis’ arm once they were outside again. “Rhea isn’t a medic. Are you sure-”

  “I trust her. Besides, she’s our best hope.”

   They settled by a nearby fire pit, arms around each other. 

  “Ajax will find us, don’t you think?” Britomartis asked quietly.

  Artemis didn’t answer. There was something about this place, a veil surrounding it. The sounds of the forest seemed dimmed, as if there was a thick layer of fresh fallen snow covering the ground. 

  A couple of satyrs brought them water and fruits as they waited, and Britomartis mentioned the dog to them. They nodded, said they had a solution, and rushed off. 

  None of them felt much like eating, but they encouraged each other to do so anyway. They listened to the sounds of the camp. Music and chatter, the noise from the many fires. It didn’t seem like the fire they sat by ever needed more firewood. It kept burning the same few blackened logs without ever dying out.

  The curtains of the tent moved aside, and Kybele and two nature spirits emerged. Artemis and Britomartis rose as she came to them. She brought with her a pithos, and three cups.

  “She will be fine,” Kybele said. “But she should stay here. No teleportation until she is better. Now, sit, have some wine.”

  “How bad was it?” Britomartis asked, her voice a little thick as she sat back down and accepted her cup.

  “With a little chanting, potions, and a few dryads trained by Chiron, it wasn’t a problem. Now, if she had been a regular mortal- Well, if she was, you wouldn’t have found us anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Now, hunters are much sturdier. Their bodies are more resilient, they can survive a lot of damage-”

  “No,” Artemis said. “The last part. We wouldn’t have found you?”

  “Oh, that. Well, I’ve been terribly busy here the past years. That’s what happens when mortals find anything of value. They opened up a gold mine in Kirazli, a little north of here. You remember, I am sure! I tried to have Hades hide the gold. Terrible destruction of nature. And my own son, Zeus, says-" and she deepened her voice " _ -Don't you worry, mother. They will replant!  _ As if thousands of year of careful tending of the soil, growing of trees, small fires, animals living and dying, can be so easily mimicked by simple humans! No, these nymphs and their satyrs will stay here with me, where I can sustain their life force with magic, until I can tie them to new, permanent sources, here in Kazdagi.”

  “Grandmother, please,” Artemis sighed. “You’re not answering our question. About finding you?”

  Kybele huffed, and drank more of her wine. “So impatient, you young ones. I’m getting to it. Kazdagi is a popular place for tourists. I couldn’t just harbour a whole forest worth of nature spirits without any protection, now could I? And besides, I… might have made a mistake.” Her cheeks reddened, and she pouted. “I might have gone a bit… rouge. There were some CEOs, posh guys, you know. They came and looked at the mines, being all rich and-” She shuttered and huffed. “Anyway, I thought I’d give them a lesson. It was supposed to turn them into proper wolves, wild animals. But I don’t know. Maybe they were related to someone who was important back in our days, or maybe I didn’t do it properly. We ended up with a trio of werewolves running rampage in the woods here. Their human forms were… compromised. Crazed. They began hunting down nature spirits in Kazdagi. So, I had to postpone my plan to tie the immigrant spirits to new homes, and instead take in all the local spirits too, and hide them. Until we could get rid of the… problem.”

  “ _ And- _ ” Artemis said, rolling her hand to make Kybele get to the point.

  “And I put up the same protection I have at my house. A simple mortal repellent, but with a twist. These aren’t really regular mortals anymore, you see. So I changed it up a bit, made it stronger. Honestly, I wasn’t sure even your hunters would even be able to find it, being mortals, but not quite.”

  “Oh, it worked, alright,” Britomartis said. “It worked a little too well. We walked right by here, and Brielle was all clumsy and weird about it. And as long as she was still fully mortal, not even me or Artemis could find you.”

  "Oh! Very efficient, then. Gods in the company of a mortal. I should tell Hecate about this, I'm sure she would find it interesting. Now, since you're here, I suppose you'll stay for dinner? Me and the satyrs eat together, the nymphs arrange their own food, they have a rather restrictive diet-"

  "We found a satyr," Artemis interrupted. "Dead." From the pocket of her pants, she pulled out the buckle from the satyr's cape. "Was he one of yours?"

  Kybele took it carefully, and stroked a tender thumb over the surface. Her face fell, and her whole strong posture weakened. "Oh."

  "Killed. We suspect, by the same werewolf that attacked us."

  "Most likely, yes. There is only one left. The nature spirits from Kazdagi sometimes leave camp. To find food, or to set up traps for the werewolves. This one, he…" she sighed. "He went to check on things. He knew the risk."

  "We killed the werewolf," Artemis assured. She got up from her seat to sit next to Kybele, and put an arm around her. 

  "Then they are all dealt with. The spirits can be relocated." Kybele sighed. "I wish there had only been the good news."

  "There is more, Grandmother. There is a reason we come. We've looked for you for over a week."

  “Well, why didn’t you just call on that tingamajig Hermes gave me?” she barked, the grip on the buckle fastening.

  “May I please see your phone, grandmother?”

  Kybele huffed, and summoned her phone from thin air - featuring a caduceus on the backside. She handed it to Artemis, who tried to turn it on.

  “When did you last charge it?”

  Kybele frowned. “What?”

  “Hermes did give you a charger, right?”

  “There was a box,” Kybele said, forming the shape of it with her hands. “Some threads. A book.”

  “And what did you do to them?”

  “The book is on my bookshelf, of course. I used the threads in the garden, to bind the cherry plum saplings.”

  “There’s your problem, Grandmother.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. I’ll have Hermes come give you a crash course.”

  “Humans have made so many things in such a short amount of time, I can’t keep up. Only yesterday we were sending morse codes.”

  Artemis patted her hand. “Anyway, grandmother. We’re here in serious business. It’s about Zagreus.”

  Kybele jumped and stared at her. “What?”

  “Zagreus. Hecate told us you were the one to separate him from Dionysus, isn’t that right?”   
  “I, yes, but… But most didn’t know about-”

  “Eris convinced Hecate, Persephone, and Dionysus to restore him. He has taken over, and we need you to help get Dio back.”

  “Now, hold on. Take it one step at the time. The full story.”

  And so Artemis explained. How Dionysus had been given a potion from the drinking horn. How he had changed, and become Zagreus instead. That Hecate had explained all she knew of his past. That Zeus had sent her to find Kybele, while the others captured Zagreus. 

“That explains it,” Kybele said, once Artemis was done. She frowned, staring into the flames of the bonfire. “That explains why I couldn’t summon him.”

“Summon whom?” 

  “Zagreus, the bull-horned hunter. You now know how he came to be, how he reformed as Dionysus. But not why I did as I did. To understand, you must first consider your immortality. You too are mortal, Artemis, Britomartis. You too will someday die.”

  “We know that,” Britomartis said, matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, but do you? Where do gods come from?”

  “Please do not make me spell that out to my own grandmother.”

  Kybele ignored her, and threw her arms out theatrically. “In the beginning of times, there were only the primordial concepts. The laws of physics. There was cold, and there was warmth. There was darkness, and there was light. Suns were formed, and thereby stars. Planets, and thereby the skies. Water. The Earth. Life and thereby death. Fertility. Hunger. And so on and so on. An evolutionary history which formed the humans, and formed them in such a way that they could imagine  _ us _ . We were formed by mortals, but even we, granddaughters, are nothing more but stardust. We did not exist before the universe, and we will not exist after it. Humans might talk about a mortal body and an immortal soul. But what happens to the so called immortal souls in the Underworld, when the day comes that the Earth and even Hades are gone? They meet their doom, their eventual mortality. And so will we. We too have a soul. A  _ mortal _ soul. Zagreus was immortal, but even he was killed. What remained was his hearth, containing his essence, his soul. The soul created from the union of two immortal gods. But then, it was reborn as a mortal child. When Hera cursed Dionysus, it went deep. Way too deep. I could not heal Dionysus without healing his soul, but Dionysus’ soul was not that of a regular mortal. It still contained the essence of immortality and godhood. Healing a mortal soul, even that of a demigod, no problem. Healing an immortal soul? Not impossible. Healing a hybrid? I didn't even know where to start.” Kybele shrugged. 

  “So I did the only thing I could think of. I split the soul in two halves - the human soul and the godly soul, and healed them separately. But I saw scars left on the immortal soul. Scars that needed more time to heal than what I had available. A curse from one immortal to another is a difficult thing to heal. And if I put the pieces back together, and Dionysus then became a god, he could become too easy to manipulate, too unstable, too destructive. But there was a price. Without merging the pieces back together, Dionysus would lose some of the properties he had possessed as  _ Dionysus Zagreus.  _ But that would simply have to wait. The soul presented to Zeus, the one resting in Dionysus, was half a soul, fully mortal, but healed. Then came the Great War, over a hundred years ago, and I was once again reminded of the mortality of humans, and of gods. And so, I thought that perhaps now was the time to check in on the soul I had dispersed, to see if its scars were now weak enough to heal properly. That was why I attempted to summon it. But if it had formed a new body, even a megre drinking horn, and I didn’t have this body under my control, no wonder I couldn’t summon the soul. Instead, I suppose, this caused a shift in it. I stirred it. And by doing so, I stirred the soul still in Dionysus’ body. I awakened two electromagnetic magnets, but they were too far apart to smash together. All it caused was for the captured souls to suffer in longing to become whole again.”

  Artemis tapped her thigh with her forefinger, thinking. “Could that… Grandmother, could that affect other souls too? Other souls that had been tampered with?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hyacinthus is back.”

  Kybele thought about it, staring into the flames. “I suppose Apollo did so much work to reclaim Hyacinthus’ soul, that it wasn’t properly tied to the underworld anymore. Dionysus Zagreus’ soul is deeply connected to the underworld, it could possibly have affected the realm. Without a physical body to keep Hyacinthus’ soul in place, it could be that the stirring in Dionysus and Zagreus was the last bit needed to finally resurrect him fully. When did he return?”

  “About a century ago.”

  “Sounds right. Interesting. And it doesn’t surprise me if Eris has more power of the soul of Zagreus, because there are still scars on it. Weak, maybe now weak enough that I can finally heal it.”

  Artemis and Britomartis grinned at each other. 

  “So you’ll do it?” Artemis asked.

  “Of course. Dionysus is my foster-son, I will do what it takes to make sure he is well. Poor Dio-” and she pronounced it almost like  _ Theo _ , “-he must be very confused being trapped inside his own mind, not in control. Yes, we will gather everyone tomorrow. In the Underworld.”

  “The underworld?” Britomartis asked. “Why the Underworld.”

  “I will need the influence of all of Dionysus Zagreus’ birth parents. All three of them. And Persephone can’t leave for the surface yet. You will have to contact the others, included Thyone.”

  “Why wait?” Artemis asked, already getting to her feet. “We could go now!”

  “There are other matters to attend to first.”

  “But-”

  Kybele rose, and held up the buckle from the dead satyr. “First - the dead. Then the living.”

 

There was a second funeral under the full moon that night. The atmosphere was contradicting. Sad, but hopeful for tomorrow. Kybele had announced the death of the last werewolf, and that relocation of the nymphs would take place as soon as possible. Artemis and Britomartis kept to the side, sitting by themselves. Melankoli and shared mourning briefly had to be pushed aside for a moment when they saw figures between the trees, running towards the camp.

  Following Kybele’s two lionesses came their dog- running with a limp. Still, he didn’t seem to care when he was allowed on their laps and got to lick their ears as he pleased. The large cats seemed content with their work, and rubbed their heads against humans and dog alike. 

  Brielle still slept when the sun rose the next morning, but Kybele assured them she would be fine, she just needed time. Once they had done what they needed to do in the Underworld, she’d take Apollo with her back to have him speed up the healing process. Still, before they left, Britomartis sat by Brielle’s bedside and reassured her that they’d be back soon, even though she was still unconscious. Ajax stayed, guarding her as she slept.

  Kybele had packed a satchel and stood ready for them outside the tent.

  “It won’t take long,” she said. “We’ll back within a few hours. Are you ready?”

  Artemis and Britomartis both nodded, and closed their eyes.

  Artemis knew where to go. She could form the gates outside of Hades’ palace in her mind. The glowing lights of plants and mushrooms. The cool air. Soft, whispering voices from dead souls. 

  Around her, the world shifted. The ground beneath her feet disappeared, and her stomach churned. 

  And they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mining project is temporarily shut down. You can read more about it here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goldmining_project_at_Mount_Ida_region
> 
> Fizz has decided the dead satyr is named Ignatios. He will live forever in her imagination.  
> I just killed him and called it a day.


	22. Three Gods and a Merging Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zagreus is taken to Kybele, and I am finally done with this story line, and can get back to my scheduled goofy chapters until I get another complicated idea.

Zagreus had slept enough for a hundred life times. He had never planned on sleeping for more than five minutes at the time ever again, once he had returned to his human body.

  But now he awoke, his mind slow and lazy. The world was moving around him in a rhythm. Up-down-up-down. His head felt heavy, filling with ichor. It was hard to breathe, because there was pressure to his chest and stomach. 

  Everything was upside down, and his neck hurt.

  Things stopped moving. There was a creaking sound of metal. Then it started again.

  He opened his eyes, and it took him several long moments to understand why nothing made sense.

  He was being carried over the shoulder of someone, looking down at legs, sandals, and a dark gravel pathway. His own dark hair hung down as a curtain around him, making it hard to take in the scene properly.

  “W… what?”

  But still he felt too drowsy to do anything but accept the situation. 

  Gravel shifted into black tiles, which then shifted into steps.

  “Lady Ariadne. Lord Apollo, lord Hermes, you are expected.”

  “Are everyone here?” As Apollo spoke, Zagreus felt the voice vibrate in the body under him. Naturally, Apollo had taken charge and was carrying him.

  “Queen Persephone has gathered everyone in her study. It is quite a crowd.”

  “And Lord Hades?” 

  “The lord has other things to attend to, it is the queen who is your host today. I will lead you to her.”

  Zagreus shook his head and lifted his bound hands to rub his face. It made him feel somewhat more awake, and he groaned. His shoulders ached as he moved. It didn’t award him any attention from the others to begin with, but as he started twisting his body, he heard Apollo huff.

  “Lie still, you’re getting down soon enough.”

  His first attempts at talking came out as a mumble, because he didn’t have as much control of his face muscles and tongue as he has assumed. The second try went a lot better.

  “Let me down!”

  “No, we’re there in a-”

  But Zagreus put his elbows together and hit Apollo as hard as he could on his lower back, against the back of his hip bone. It made Apollo shout out in surprise and pain.

  “You damn- I should stab you with a plague arrow!”

  “Apollo, calm down. Take him down, we’ll carry him between us.”

  Zagreus managed to get several hard kicks and hits in as they shifted him around, even a good bite at a hand that got too close, but had to give up when he hung between Apollo and Hermes, his feet kicking in in the air.

  Why did they have to be taller than him, it was really unfair!

  Then Ariadne grabbed his feet, and with her back to him, began walking. “Let’s get this over with. It’s way worse than dragging Dio home from bars.”

  “We should have changed his bonds, put his hands behind his back,” Apollo grunted. 

  Zagreus felt the adrenaline rush through his muscles and every hair on his body rose. He used the power the rush granted him to keep fighting as best as he could, though it didn’t do much good. Instead, he used the energy to shout and curse at his handlers.

  Doors opening. Voices. 

  He tried to kick his legs free. 

  “Get him on his feet, let me look at him.”

  His legs fell, but hands on his back steadied him to rise. The muscles in his legs felt weaker than he had expected them to.

  Large and calloused hands cupped his face and forced him to look up. They smelled of earth and soil, and cold winter air.

  “Grandson.”

  Her voice was caring, but demanding, and he met her eyes.

  “Rhea,” he whispered. There was a warm feeling to his chest, but it felt strange and unwelcomed to his mind.

  “I am sorry you were contained the way you were. That was not my intention, I only planned to give you time to heal.”

  No, this was not Rhea. He remembered her chosen name when she wore a chiton.

  “Kybele.  _ Kybele, you- _ ”

  His body filled with rage again, and he threw himself forward with his teeth flashed. But arms were on him, holding him back, and he had to settle for spitting.

  The saliva landed on her chiton, and again voices rose around him.

  “No, don’t mind him. Eris influence is all over him. We will get this all under control soon enough. Hecate, your potions. Apollo, Hermes hold him still. Persephone, you make sure he drinks it all.”

  The rest of the room came more into focus, and he noticed how crowded it was. Artemis stood with two hunters, and there was Hecate and Persephone, busying themselves by pouring wine from a carafe into a goblet. 

  Two more stood behind Kybele, their faces stern and their positures straight and tensed, clearly ready for their tasks. One was a man - broad shouldered and powerful, and with a curled black beard streaked with grey. His whole being radiated power like nothing Zagreus had seen, more powerful than Rhea even. Next to him a woman. She and Ariadne stood side by side, holding hands. She wore a purple dress - a peplos - with decorative borders, and golden accessories. Though she didn’t shine with the same aura as the man, Zagreus couldn’t help stare at her features. The shape of her eyes, the curve of her nose-

  But he didn’t want to care. He wanted to hit things, and scream, and-

  Then Persephone was there, his mother, his  _ only _ mother. 

  Confusion and anger made tears blur out his vision, so he wasn’t prepared when she grabbed hold of his jaw and forced the goblet to his mouth. 

  It tasted of wine, but he tried to force it out. Soon it filled his mouth and throat, and he had no choice but to swallow in large gulps to get it all down so he could breathe again. Some of the liquid ran down his chin and chest.

  “Now, Thyone, Zeus, Persephone, I need you to hold Zagreus while I merge the souls, it is essential. Apollo, Hermes, hand him over.”

  There was absolute chaos around him, but he tried as best as he could to inflict pain on whoever he could get close to. It didn’t do much, especially not when the man -  _ could it truly be him, his father  _ \- put his large arms around his waist from behind. The women grabbed each of his arms, and once again his only weapon were his legs.

  “Get off!  _ Get off!” _

  He saw Apollo put his arm around Hermes, both to comfort him and to keep him from intervening. Hermes looked small and fragile next to his sturdy brother, hiding his face under the brim of his hat and his sunken positure under his chlamys. Ariadne and Artemis held hands, both looking determined and unwavering.

  Kybele held her hand up, and from it hung a purple, cut crystal. As she did, the air began to move in a wind, making her veil dance.

  She spoke words he didn’t understand, in a language older even than him. The crystal began to glow. At the same time, he saw his own obsidian, the gift Eris had given him, lift from his chest, stretching towards the other like a magnet.

  Kybele glowed too, her aura now visible even for a mortal eye. The sound of her voice seemed to come from outside of herself, from the walls and the floors. It was as if she was just miming the words someone else spoke for her. 

  He had forgotten to fight, he realized, too transfixed on Kybele and the two crystals trying to reach each other. But now that he was aware of it, he wasn’t able to. His limbs felt heavy. There was sweat running down his chest and back. He felt warm, as if he was building up a fever not high enough to make him feel cold yet. It was getting hard to breathe.

  There was pain again. Scorching hot, as if he was being melted and softened. In the depths of his mind, he heard voices again. An echo from times past his own carving, sound waves that formed and then were reflected into light. He saw his father standing proud, announcing this great honor. Hermes grabbed his arm, promising to show him all the best hiding places. Ariadne blushed, but grinned, as Aphrodite placed a diadem on her head. Apollo in an old couch, grinning as he announced this to be their new home. Memories flowed into each other, running over him like hot water. Years turning to decades, decades turning into centuries. Hecate offered him a drinking horn. Eris whispered in his ear.

  And then he blacked out.

 

  Dionysus awoke in his own bed, his body heavy and tired. At first he just turned around, and went back to sleep, but in time it got harder and harder to keep his mind silent and his body relaxed. Soon, there was a demand from his muscles to be stretched, to pull out that last bit of sleep. He yawned, and oxygen rushed into his lungs. 

  His room was dark, but there was dimmed, golden sunlight sneaking in underneath the curtains. He heard footsteps and faint voices through the door, but in general, everything seemed slow and quiet.

  He sat up and stretched his arms, only to get a whiff of his own sweat. The tee he was wearing felt clammy. Honestly, he needed to freshen up. But he was tired still, and he didn’t feel like teleporting anywhere. Fine, he would have to use the shower, then. He grabbed some clothes from his dresser, and stepped out into the hallway. 

  There were voices in the kitchen, he realized, and the TV was on in the living room. But the bathroom was free, and he went unnoticed.

  It wasn’t until he washed his hair he really became aware of the horns. They were rounded and curved, like those of a ram. Had they always been there? No. Yes? No, not always. Wait, not like these? Were they always this shape? 

  It didn’t take much of an effort to disappear them, but he was sure they were a part of him now, though perhaps only when he felt like it? He didn’t really want to get a hat like Hermes, and they were much too big to hide under his hair. 

  He took his time pruning the vines growing in his hair. There were leaves of ivy, he realized, and he frowned. He hadn’t been growing ivys since before Hera cursed him. Most were withered, carrying yellow spots. He ended up with a set of small, green buds, ready to fold out into fresh grape vine leaves when ready. 

  The mirror had fogged up, but a brush of his hand let him see his face. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. But his irises were familiar purple, blue enough not to be too conspicuous for the average mortal.

  Finally, he pulled on a pair of harem pants and a loose fitting tank top. He made sure his pendant hang on the outside of it, and when touching it, he noticed it had changed.

  There were two now, side by side. The black obsidian and the purple amethyst.    
  Cool. New items. Level up?

  Then he stepped out of the bathroom.

  Only to be attacked.

  “Dude, dude, are you okay?” Hermes asked, his arms around Dionysus. “Fuck, I thought, for a moment there I thought. But then you were just sleeping and-”

  “Give him some air, you’re suffocating him.”

  Hermes was pulled away by Apollo, and Dionysus could see how cramped the hallway actually was. His brothers, Artemis, Ariadne, and Thyone all stood and watched him. With the exception from Hermes, they kept a respectful distance that made him feel rather awkward.

  “How do you feel,” Thyone asked, her voice slow and clear, as if talking to someone on their sickbed.  

  His stomach rumbled, answering the question for him.

  “I’ve got some burgers ready?” Apollo suggested. 

   He nodded. “Okay. Can you… Can you make mine a bit raw in the middle?”

  Most of the crowd looked nervous by the request, but Apollo nodded. 

  “Alright. You all just sit down in the living room, I’ll get some food out.”

  Dionysus pulled one of the beanbags over to the coffee table and sat cross legged in it. There were already drinks on the table, and he grabbed both a soda and a glass of wine - he didn’t care much whose it was - and downed both of them. He knew from experience that the fizz in the soda would make it so the alcohol got into his system quicker, but as long as he kept his amethyst on, it didn’t really matter anyway. 

  As he grabbed a bottle and began pouring himself a second glass, he noticed everyone around him staring again. They sat at the edges of their seats, watching his every move.

  He held out the bottle. “Anyone... want any?”

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “More… for me then?”

  “Dude,” Hermes asked. “Are you  _ sure _ you feel fine?”

  “It’s okay, you know,” Artemis reassured. “If you don’t, I mean.”

  Thyone nodded. “You were quite… a handful earlier.”

  “A bit of an ass, actually,” Ariadne said. “You bit Hermes. Twice.”

  Water. Cold water and creeks merging into rivers.

  “I’m sorry… about that.” Suddenly, he became aware that he had begun fiddling with the two crystals he was wearing. He lowered his hands. “Things felt… weird.”

  From the kitchen, Apollo called. “Do you want pineapple and slash or cream cheese on yours, Dio?”

  Dionysus called out a “Yeah, sure,” before pointing with his thumb back towards the kitchen. “That kind of weird.”

  Nobody seemed to understand what he meant, except for Hermes, who nodded knowingly. “I get that. Valid.”

  Ariadne moved from the couch to a beanbag next to him, and brushed her hand against his. He grabbed it, and felt her relax. She leaned in, and rested her head against his shoulder with a soft sigh. He rested his own head against hers, and closed his eyes. 

  A set of arms framed them both, and he felt Thyone kiss his temple. “It is good to have you back, sweetie.”

  He didn’t really feel like he had ever been  _ gone _ , but he didn’t comment on it. 

  More arms joined in, and he felt comfortably squished. 

  Through the pile of people, he heard Apollo’s voice.

  “I will not have you eating burgers while tangled up like that, you’ll make a mess, and I will have to clean it.”

  “Stop complaining,” Hermes said. “If you get mad, we’ll just call Hyacinthus to come smooch on you until you’re happy and soft again.”

  Dionysus giggled along with the others, but then-

  “Wait,” he said, blinking in confusion. “ _ Hyacinthus _ ?”


	23. Three Gods and a Wrestling Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermes and Hyacinthus are more competitive than expected. When Hermes announces that he is entering an underground wrestling tournament, Hyacinthus has doubts about his abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know much about wrestling, especially not underground wrestling, but I've been trying to read up on it. I have decided to hope that you don't know anything about it either, so that you can still enjoy the chapter without getting too emotional about my errors.

Ariadne was a competitive woman, and she knew it. It wasn’t a trait she’d always had. It was something that had built up over years of watching women be left out, including herself. She’d take almost any bet ever, even if she knew she’d lose, just to make sure everyone saw she wasn’t gonna back down.

  She was competitive, and proud of it.

  But she could not be compared to Hermes and Hyacinthus.

  Next to the TV now hung a scoreboard, which had gotten longer every week for the past month. It featured her, Dionysus, Apollo, Hyacinthus, and Hermes. Artemis and Eleanor had stepped in as judges when needed. 

  Apollo had ended up on last place, to nobody's surprise. He’d won the karaoke and Guitar Hero by a mile, and only  _ just  _ won Dance, Dance Revolution over Dionysus. But he had lost to Hermes in the rap battle, become a  _ very  _ sore loser, pouted for an hour while whining about technicalities, and quit the whole thing.

  Dionysus was at third place. He wasn’t very competitive, he had overslept for two of the planned events, and he enjoyed to let others win. But he had crushed everyone in a drinking competition, at being the best dressed, in the hotdog eating competition (despite being by far the smallest of them all), and gotten the most phone numbers from strangers in 24 hours.

  Ariadne was at second place, and fine by that. Winning was fun, sure. She loved to see her competition crushed under her Birkenstocks. She’d won the orientation run, the two-months-early Easter Egg Hunt, the Scavenger Hunt, the escape room, and the timed maze run. But there was one thing that was even better than winning.

  To see Hermes lose.

  It wasn’t that she had anything against Hermes, on the contrary. She loved him, he was the best brother-in-law she could ask for. He always remembered her birthday, and he was funny, though a tad annoying at times. 

  But she still relished in it when Hermes lost.

  The thing was, Hermes was usually a  _ great  _ loser. He’d offer his hand and give out praise, and that was that. He was fair.

  But to everyone’s surprise, the tension between him and Hyacinthus had thickened the past month. Finally, he had found someone as competitive and charming as himself, and it seemed to be nagging at both of them. 

  The two currently  _ shared _ a first place on the scoreboard.

  They had started all gentleman-like. Shaking hands, saying “good game”, and so on. Then, gradually, it had turned to boasting, sarcastic comments, and even sore cursing.

  And it was  _ extremely  _ entertaining for everyone else. Which was why neither she nor Dionysus would suggest they stop with the contests. 

  The night that finally make the rivalry official, was when Hermes entered the living room with the widest grin he’d had since he’d beaten Hyacinthus in a running match the day before.

  “Guys, boot up. I’ve got a treat for you.”

  Dionysus and Hyacinthus put down their gaming consoles, Apollo stopped tuning his guitar, and Ariadne kept sipping her tea.

  “What treat?” Dionysus said. “Oh, is it a cat? Wine? I know, I know. Disneyworld!”

  “You’re just saying that because you have the hots for Megara,” Ariadne said, not looking up from her magazine.

  “And you  _ don’t? _ ”

  “I do.”

  But Hyacinthus smirked. “Is it a challenge?”

  “Not for you, Flower Boy,” Hermes said. “Only for me tonight. But I will allow you all to witness my superior victory.”

  Ariadne and Hyacinthus both booed and showed thumbs-down, but Dionysus threw some chips on both of them to make them shut up.

  Apollo put his guitar down on the couch next to him. “What’s up?”

  “Wrestling match,” Hermes said as he straightened his back. “I’m entering.”

  “You?” Hyacinthus barked. He measured Hermes from top to toe, not too impressed with his strong, but sleek, runner’s body. “What weight class? Feathers?”

  Dionysus threw more chips at him, but Hyacinthus managed to snatch up some of it with his mouth and chewed it up without losing his smug grin. 

  “You’ve got it all wrong. Wrestling-,” Hermes said patiently, “is as much about technique and balance as strength. Sure, Ariadne can win ten out of fifteen arm wrestling matches, but when it comes to using your whole body, I would nail you down, Cinthy. And take your lunch money.”

  “So why haven’t you set us up with a wrestling evening? I’d love to see you try.”

  “Because, if we were to wrestle, it would be too easy for me. Where’s the fun in that? But hey! If after tonight you want to try, sure. We’ll add it to the scoreboard and you will have to admit yet another defeat.”

  “We’re even, you idi-.”

  Apollo stood and held his hands up. “Okay, guys, calm down. Hermes, when’s your match?”

  Hermes checked the time on his phone. “In about… an hour. I’ve got a cab waiting outside, we kind of should leave right away.”

  “What!” Apollo began running his fingers through his hair. “Give a guy some notice, would you! I need to brush my hair and pick out a-”

  “No, no, no.” Hyacinthus stood, brushed off some crumbs of chips, and walked up to Apollo to grab his hands. “You look great, love.”

   “But I should change-”

   “No, you’re fine, hush.” Hyacinthus kissed Apollo, and everyone else whistled. “Now, let’s go. I want to see Hermes squished under some beefcake.”

  Ariadne had to focus on keeping a straight face. “Hey, Hyacinthus. I’ll bet you Hermes wins the whole thing tonight.”

  Apollo frowned at her. “Ariadne,  _ don’t- _ ”

  “Oh, come on, Apollo! What’s the harm in a small bet?”

  Hyacinthus looked puzzled, but shrugged. “Sure. Twenty bucks?”

  “I was thinking more…” she gestured as she thought. “...two-hundred?”

  “Hyacinthus, honey, don’t-”

  “Deal. Don’t worry, Apollo, I’ve got the money, it’s fine.”

  Ariadne jumped out of her seat to shake Hyacinthus’ hand. “You all heard him, he agreed, no conditions or anything. Shall we go?”

  As they got their jackets and shoes on, Dionysus bumped her with his elbow and whispered. “You know that’s a dishonest bet.”

  “I’ll treat you to a date night when I win. Besides, anything to make tonight even more  _ tense. _ ”

  “You’re almost worse than Eris,” he said, but he looked fairly devious himself.

  “You’re right. I should get a golden apple.  _ For the one with the biggest-” _

  “I love you, have I mentioned that lately?”

  Ariadne kissed his cheek. “Baby, I know.”

  Hermes drove them far out into an industrial area, finally parking by the only lit up warehouse surrounded by otherwise abandoned buildings. Groups of people still stood outside, smoking, drinking, and exchanging things in handshakes that Ariadne didn’t feel the need to comment on. There were two large guards by the open double doors, both scarred and tattooed, and fairly mean-looking. 

  Ariadne spoke through the opening in the glass separating the back seat from Apollo and Hermes.

  “Hey, Hermy. Any particular reason why you invited us, but not Eleanor, to this?”

  “Except for the fact that my cab can only fit five people?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, you know.” He gestured with his hand as he tried to find the right words. “This whole set up is a bit… sketchy. But there is a lot of money involved, and those sweet, green, 2-D presidents are coming home with daddy.”

  “Please,” Apollo groaned “-refer from talking about yourself in third person as  _ Daddy _ without one of your actual children present.”

  “I’ll take the lead, you just go find yourself a good spot to watch me win.”

  “Will there be popcorn?” Dionysus asked.

  “There’s two bags in the trunk, but please do try to look macho while eating it? This isn’t a Denny’s.”

  “No promises. Oh, and speaking of-”

  “We can go to a Denny’s  _ after  _ I’m done here.”

  Apollo groaned. “We have food at-”

  “Just get out of my damned car so I can kick people’s ass!”

  Hermes took the lead as they walked across the parking lot and up to the warehouse. There, he left them while he went to talk to the huge guards. They saw how he flashed a card, and then waited patiently while they barked and laughed. When the two had finally accepted that yes - he was a competitor- and no - he didn’t try to get himself killed - they slapped his shoulder and gestured to the warehouse. He came back to the other fours with a thumbs up.

  “Okay, I gotta go. You’ll see me in the ring in ten minutes. Make sure you get a good spot, alright. If you want to place any bets, you  _ can _ still make it, if you’ll hurry. But honestly, I wouldn’t, if I were you. Unless you bet on me, of course. Go, go, go.” And with that, he shooed them off and jogged off around the corner. 

  “We’ve already got a bet going, haven’t we?” Ariadne reminded Hyacinthus, who nodded. 

  “Though I am curious about the stakes.”

  “Well, I am gonna go throw in some money on Mimi,” Dionysus said, and ran into the warehouse towards what was obviously commonly a break room now redesigned into a betting booth. 

  They followed inside, and the minute they entered it, they were met by a wall of sound. Talking, shouting, yelling, and music was multiplied by the walls and concrete floors. Ariadne didn’t have much problem with loud noises, and filtered it out easily. Once Dionysus returned, with a ticket in his hand, Apollo lead them towards what looked like a DIY arena. The raised floor in the center looked decent, same with the ropes, but the benches were just pallets stacked on top of each other. Apollo found them a free spot, and they pressed down between people who were all fired up and ready for a match. The smell of beer and cigarettes was intense, and it made her feel at home. Some of the faces in the crowd looked to them, where they sat with their two bags of popcorn, but most of them smiled by the sight. One even gave a thumbs-up, and yelled over the crowd to ask where they had got it.

  Dionysus stuffed his ticket into his pants.

  “You should have heard them laugh when I put my money on him. They said I was crazy.”

  “You are a little crazy, Dio,” Ariadne said, and offered him the bag of popcorn.

  Then, the light changed. It dimmed, with the exception of spotlights - clearly meant for construction sites - hitting the arena. A man came up with a microphone, his shirt unbuttoned at the top to show off a rather impressive vegetation of chest hair. The music stopped, then started over again with a new, more fitting background tune with a comfortable bass and no vocals.

  “Are you all ready for a night at the  _ riiing? _ ” 

  The crowds cheered.

  “You lucky fellas and gals, I hope you’ve placed your bets wisely! Just for show, let us get the contestants on stage. Come on, guys!”

  And in from the side came the wrestlers. They were an odd collection of men and women - some in costumes, others in regular workout outfits. There were tattoos, and bulging muscles. There were nervous faces, and people who seemed ready to chew whole cherries  _ with _ stones. 

  But the one who stood out the most, was Hermes. 

  He wore a blue and white wrestler’s singlet with a Greek flag on his chest, and a headgear which covered his ears and chin. Even though he wasn’t the shortest of the group, he was the least bulky one, which made him look like a fifth grader attending a college graduation party. 

  “Oh boy,” Hyacinthus grinned. “And without using any godly powers, I am thinking this will be a tough match for him.” 

  None of the others commented, but when Hermes’ name was called out, they all stood and cheered, as the only fans in the crowd. 

  It seemed no one were surprised that the popcorn gang were rooting for the underdog in the spandex. The actual favourites were much more obvious. When the names of some of the larger contestants were called up, the cheers boomed through the building. 

  “Everything is allowed! No sharp weapons, but the fighters can go for the eyes, groins and breasts. Headlocks, kicks, and punches are fine! That means, no points are given to the opponent for unsportsmanship or alike! What happens in the ring tonight stays in the ring!” The crowd cheered again, clearly thirsty for violence. “At the end of the night, those who have placed lucky bets can go get their cash. And the best wrestler tonight will get their payment, one-thousand-five-hundred dollars cash!”

  Some of the wrestlers flexed. Hermes waved up at them. Dionysus and Ariadne whistled and waved back with extra enthusiasm to make up for the lack of supporters.

  And then they were on. 

  With Hermes in the first round.

  “Are you all ready? We have DeathStare versus Mercury in the first match. Give me some noise!”

  DeathStare clearly had some devoted fans, because there was a roaring chant from a large group on the other side of the room. They also made it clear that Mercury was about to be squished to a pulp.

  DeathStare glared at her small opponent, and growled. 

  “Nice teeth,” Dionysus said. “Clearly carnivorous.” 

  “We’re not taking DeathStare in as a maenad, Dio.”

  “Aw, damn.”

  Hermes, on the other hand, just smiled and held his hand out. DeathStare did take it, but looked like she planned on biting it off his arm.

  The two started in a neutral position, their legs bent, looking each other in the eye. As the referee blew his whistle, they both lunged forward. Hermes seemed to disappear underneath the much larger wrestler, but then her stance shifted. Without losing any time, Hermes had grabbed her leg, and used the momentum of her fall to tackle her over his back. She fell down, and Hermes was immediately there, grabbing her arms and using is body weight to hold her flat down on her back.

  The referee called out, and Hermes got up with a wide grin.

  “And that… That is… Fuck, that’s a pin, folks. That… DeathStare is out, Mercury continues onto the next match!” the guy with the chest hair announced in his microphone, sounding as puzzled as DeathStare looked. She got back up on her feet, and the stare she gave Hermes wasn’t as much a death stare as a look of complete and utter surprise. 

  “Good technique,” Hyacinthus said, but Ariadne could hear the strain in his voice.

  There were a few matches with big, buff wrestlers, which all took much longer than the first match. Some of competitors were obvious showmen, using techniques from pro-wrestling to make it more interesting. While Ariadne and Dionysus stood and cheered, calling for blood, Apollo groaned.

  “I just can't believe we have a sport where Stinkface is an actual move,” he said, clearly disappointed in humanity. Hyacinthus patted his back.

  Finally, it was Hermes’ turn in the ring again. This time, his opponent wasn’t underestimating him. Hermes was small, but fast, and once they began moving, Mr. Maimer made sure to keep his legs far out of reach. The guy instead moved around, and managed to get Hermes in a headlock.

  “Aren’t those usually illegal?” Hyacinthus asked.

  “You heard the announcer. Everything is allowed,” Ariadne said. “Makes it much more fun!”

  “Or much more chaotic,” Apollo sighed. “This is stupid. Besides, didn’t you see earlier? That red clad wrestler, Kool Aid? He could easily have thrown The Dirt off his back, but he didn’t. I’m calling a scam.”

  In the meantime, Hermes had used his sharp elbow to go for the ribs of Mr. Maimer, who had broken down in pain. From there, Hermes wriggled his way out of the grip, and repaid with a more sportsmanship-like headlock, where he also captured the arm of Mr. Maimer. From here, he kicked the back of Mr. Maimer’s knees, making him drop all the way down to where Hermes could then change his grip and roll his opponent over on the back. A couple of seconds later, and the match was over. 

  Ariadne felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked over to see Hyacinthus’ large, violet eyes.

  “What. The-”

  “Do you want to give me my money right away, or wait until Hermes has won the final round?”

  “But-”

  Apollo put his arm around Hyacinthus. “I am really sorry, honey, I tried to stop you. I think you’ve forgotten Hermes is one of the gods of wrestling.”

  Hyacinthus blinked, still staring at Ariadne. “I thought… I thought it was Palaestra, the goddess.”

  “Yeah, and remember who her dad was?” Ariadne teased. “Hermes. The two  _ invented _ the sport.”

  “Though,” Dionysus shot in, “I’ve always suspected Hermes invented it to flirt with guys. There is some serious body contact in wrestling, you know.”

  “He sure ain’t getting any numbers here tonight,” Ariadne said. 

  She was right. The crowd was booing. They had bet money on their favourites, but this Mercury fella had been an underdog from the very beginning. And with this win, Hermes had already qualified for the semi-finale, and was only two steps from being tonight’s champion.

  There were more rounds, more dirty tricks. A woman blew green fog from her mouth and into an opponent’s eye. A former favourite lost unexpectedly, being pinned down in the last of three rounds in a match, despite having the highest number of points. There were loud protests in the crowd when they realized she wouldn’t make it to the semi finals. The guy who did, on the other hand, faced Hermes, who finally pinned him down in the third round. Ariadne and Dionysus had found a sharpie, stolen Hyacinthus and Apollo’s popcorn, emptied it, and used the box to make a sign that said  _ MERCURY IS THE MAN _ . The rest of the audience glared at them as they sang and cheered in Greek. 

  Through their ecstasy, Ariadne noticed a gang hidden in the dark in corner between the rows. They were clearly arguing, and the commentator with the chest hair looked small and timid when one of the men held a fist to his face. 

  Something did not sit right at all with this competition, and Hermes had stirred up a hornet’s nest.

  Now the crowd roared. The finale was between Hermes and a shorter - but much more muscular - woman with a wrestling mask. She hadn’t been the audience’s favourite, but popular enough that a decent portion of the crowd still had a chance to go home with earnings. 

  The man with the chest hair got up in the middle of the arena, and Ariadne noticed that he had soaked his pretty silken shirt in sweat, and wasn’t looking too high on himself.

  “The final match… Is between El Músculo and Mercury. Oh boy.” He turned, and looked over his shoulder at the referee, who seemed equally nervous. “This is it. Let’s get on with it.”

  They started the first round in neutral position with their knees and back bent, arms out, ready to fight. The referee blew his whistle, and they attacked each other. Hermes held El Músculo at a distance by holding a hand on her head, and using his height to push her downwards. But he held on just a bit too long, and she got the time to grab his arm and pull him down to the floor. Still, he didn’t fall, but held himself up in a clearly uncomfortable angle with his legs and his one free arm. El Músculo kneed him in the back, but Hermes repaid by reaching up to throw is arm over her neck to trip her so she lost her grip on him. The two continued rolling, and wrestling on the ground, and while she kicked, punched, and clawed at him, Hermes stuck to traditional rules of grabbing and holding. 

  The three minutes of the first round passed, and the referee blew his whistle. “Pause! Three points to Mercury, one to El Músculo!”

  While the audience boomed, Ariadne noticed the stern looking group in the dark, now shaking their heads in defeat. 

  In the second round, the referee tossed a coin, and El Músculo won. She got to choose the opening position, and instead of the regular neutral stance with the two facing each other, Hermes got down on his knees with his hands flat on the ground, and the woman held him from behind with one hand on his elbow and her other arm around his waist. The referee blew his whistle, and in one quick movement, Hermes jumped forward on all fours, easily escaping her grip. There was a moment of confusion, arms, and legs, and El Músculo was pinned down on her back.

  Once the sound of the referee’s whistle had died out, silence filled the room. Everyone held their breath and stared as the referee, nervous and shook, took Hermes’ arm and lifted it to the air.

  “And Mercury is tonight’s winner!”

  Then the crowd howled. This couldn’t be right! This couldn’t be fair! Someone must have been paid under the table for this guy to be able to beat one beefy wrestler after another!

  Hermes grabbed the microphone from the commentator. “I’ll take anyone. Anyone from the audience! Just come on up, I’ll show you this ain’t a game, I’m not a cheater.”

  The howling turned into low murmurs. Finally, several from the audience got up and walked down to the fence. A few of them threw on a show - taking off their shirts and flexing for their friends.

  “This isn’t good,” Apollo mumbled.

  “Give it a rest!” Dionysus proclaimed, throwing some popcorn at him.

  “ _ Did _ he cheat?” Hyacinthus asked, confused. “Use some deity powers for extra strength?”

  “Nah,” Dionysus said, clearly proud on Hermes’ behalf. “If he did, he’d won way more easily, and he’d be more tired. He’s just got the  _ skills _ after three thousand years of practice!”

  In the meantime, Hermes worked his way through beefcake after beefcake. He was done allowing anyone to get a hit in. These guys weren’t pro anyway. They had basically no sense of balance, of stance. 

  Ariadne felt sure could have taken them down without dipping into her powers.

  But he still looked worn out and beaten up by the time the last guy lay pinned down under him.

  “You done?” Hermes said in his ear. The guy growled, but lay still.

  Slowly, Hermes stood on his feet again, and they could see he was breathing fast, though he was smiling. He sported a swollen eye that surely would turn black by tomorrow morning. 

  “There’s nothing to it,” the commentator said, as he walked up next to Hermes. “If any of you have won your bet, go to Ernie and collect your cash. We’re done for tonight. And you-” The rest was said to Hermes’ ear, the microphone turned off so no one could hear. They walked off the floor together, the commentator with his arm around Hermes’ shoulders.

 

  “Look at it and weep, boys!” Hermes proclaimed, fanning himself with a stack of hundred dollar notes. 

  “You’ve got an unfair advantage,” Hyacinthus said, pouting just a bit. “You’re a god. You’re stronger than you look.”

  “Pollo, you two sure are meant to be. You’re toasty and he is  _ jelly!” _

  “Oh, shut ut.”

  “ _ Strawberry jelly,” _ Hermes teased, waving his money in Hyacinthus’ face. Hyacinthus huffed, and slapped his hand away.

  “I still say it was unfair.”

 Hermes stuffed his money down into his back pocket, and rolled his eyes. “And I say, I have enough money for everyone who got scammed to suddenly unexpectedly win a fair amount of cash on a lottery they didn’t know they attended. The whole thing was rigged, wrestlers had been paid under the table. I was never meant to win!”

  “You’re a good dude, Hermy,” Ariadne said. “But, uh, now that you’ve got some money?”

  “Drinks are on me.”

  “Oh!” Dionysus clapped. “Yes, I’m in.”

  Apollo opened his mouth, but Hyacinthus interrupted him. “And  _ I say _ , I’m gonna decline on behalf of the two of us. I am treating Apollo to a late night date.”

  Apollo grinned and blushed. “Really?” 

  “Of course. Oh, and Ariadne? Here.” He held out a stack of notes, and Ariadne took them.

  “Nice doing business with you, Cinthy. Hope you’ll be up for more bets in the future!”

  “Sure thing, princess. See you two later.” With that, he pulled Apollo along in a different direction.

  Hermes shrugged. “Sore dude. Him and Mr Righteous fit well together.”

  “Let the guy be. It takes some time to get used to gods. Now, drinks, right? I know a place nearby.”

  As they walked, Hermes pulled out his earnings and began counting them again with a satisfied smile.

  “Ah, money. That feeling of paper beneath my fingertips- Wait…” He stopped.

  Dionysus and Ariadne, now five steps ahead, turned. 

  “What?” Dionysus asked.

  He counted again.

  And again.

  His face paled.

   “That…  _ bitch _ .”

 

  Apollo smiled, his cheeks a tad warm. “So you’re paying for a date? You know I have unlimited access to our stock fund?”

  “Sure,” Hyacinthus said. With a wink, he pulled out a small stack of money from the inner pocket of his jacket. “But I came across some extra lunch money.”


End file.
